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LIVES 



3T. FKANCES OF ROME, 



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ST. FRANCES, 

Aflor Ik Fmmo of the Fifteenth Century. 



THE LIFE 



ST. FRANCES OF ROME, 



/ 



LADY GEORGIANA, FULLERTON ; 

OF BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI, OF DOMINICA OF PARADIMt 
AND OF ANNS Di: MONTMORENCY : 



3in |ulroJmtlorn fessag 

ON THE MIRACULOUb liFE OF THE SAINT% 
3t J^M., capes, Es<j. 






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;n^ r 
F APR 12 1886 ^ 



NEW YORK: 
D. & J. SADIJER k CO., 31 BARCI.AY STREET. 

■omtrsal: cor. of soiaz damk a:vp tn. rn^Acis za^ier sn. 



f^ AaSbon reterrc to themMlTct the right of autEoriting Tran*Uti*aa of tU« If grk 



Tm LlMtART 

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Copyright, 
D. & J. SADLIER& CO., 

1885. 



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4 



Tlie authorities on which the History of St. Frances ol Rome 
rests are as follows : 

Her life by Mattiotti, her Confessor for ten years. Mattiotti 
enjoined her, as a matter of obedience, to relate to him from time 
to time her visions in the minutest detail. He was a timid and 
suspicious man, and for two or three years kept a daily record of 
Eill she told him ; afterwards, as his contidcnce in her sanctity and 
sanity grew con-plete, he contented himself with a more (:;;eneral 
account of her ecstasies, and also put together a private history of 
her ILtb. A'oer her death, ho wrote a regiilr.r biograjihy, which is 
now to be found :-n the Bf>ilandist collection (Venice, 17-35, vol. v.). 

Early in the seventeenth century, Ursinus, a Jesuit, wrot<j a 
life, which was highly esteemed, but which was never printed, and, 
except in certain fraj^ments, Ls now lost. 

In 1641, Fuligato, a Jesuit, wrote the second life, in the BoUau- 
dist coUecaon, which contains particulars of events that happened 
after Mattiotti 's time. 

Other well-written lives have since appeared : especially a recent 
one by the Vicomte do Bussi^re, in which will bo found various 
details too long to bo included in the sketch hero presented to the 
English reader. 



CONTENTS. 

L 

ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 



CHAPTER L 

(ikcaral character of the Saint's life— Her childhood and early 

piety 1 

CHAPTER n. 

Francesca's early inclination for the cloister — By her father's 
desire she marries Lorenzo Ponziano — Her married life 
— Her illness and miraculous ctire 8 

CHAPTER HI. 

Francesca proceeds in her mortiCcationB and works of charity 

— Her supernatural temptations and consolations . . IS 

CHAPTER IV. 

The birth of Francesca's first child— Her care in his educa- 
tion — She undertakes the management of her father-in- 
law's household — A famine and pestilence in Rome — Fran- 
oesca's labours for the sick and poor — The miracles wrought 
in her behalf . . . • 28 



VIU CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

PAGB 

The birth of Francesca's second son — His supernatural gifts 
— The birth of her daughter — Satanic attacks upon Fran- 
cesca — Troubles of Rome — Francesca's husband is severely 
wounded — Her eldest son, when given up as a hostage 
to the Neapolitans, is miraculously restored to her . . 37 



CHAPTER VI. 

Sufferings of Rome from the troops of Ladislas — Death of 
Francesca's son Evangelista — The famine and plague in 
Rome— Francesca's labours for the starving and sick — Her 
miracles 47 



CHAPTER VII. 

Evangelista appears to his mother — An archangel is assigned 

to her as a visible guardian throughout her life . • 69 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Francesca's illness and recovery — Her vision of hell — Resto- 
ration of tranquillity in Rome — Return of Francesca's hus- 
baud — Her power in converting sinners .... 64 



CHAPTER IX. 

Fresh supernatural events in Francesca's history — Her obe- 
dience to her husband and to her confessor rewarded by 
two miracles — Marriage of her son, and ill conauct of his 
wife — Her conversion through Fra \cesca's prayers — Fresh 
miracles worked by Francesca ... • • 74 



CONTENTS. IX 



CHAPTER X. 



PAGE 



Francesca lays the foundation of her future congregation — 

Her pilgrimage to Assisi 85 



CHAPTER XL 

Death of Francesca's fi-iend and director, Don Antonio — 
Troubles in Rome and Italy foretold by Fi-ancesca — Death 
of Vanuozza, Francesca's sister-in-law — Foundation of the 
Congregation of Oblates of Tor di Specchi ... 94 



CHAPTER XII. 

Progress and trials of the young community — It is confirmed 
by the Pope — Troubles in Rome and the Church termi- 
nated through Francesca's intercession and the council of 
Florence 105 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Death of Francesca's husband— She goes to reside with the 

community of Tor di Specchi — Her life as superioress . 114 



CHAPTER XIV. 
Francesca's last illness and death ....•• 126 

CHAPTER XV. 
Francesca's funeral, and her subsequent canonisation . • ISl 



CONTENTS. 



Blessed Lucy op Nabni 



• . 139 



m. 

Dominica of Pabadiso .••••»»• 161 



IV. 

▲kne de Moktmorbnct, tf^ Solitabt of the Ptbeness • 197 




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. '< 

THE MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. 

Ih presenting- to the general reader a newly-'WTitten Liifc 
of so extraordinary a person as St. Frances of Rome, 
tog-ether with the biog'raphical sketches contained in 
the present volume, it may be useful to introduce them 
with a few brief remarks on that peculiar feature in tae 
histories of many Saints, which is least in accordance 
with the popular ideas of modern times. A mere trans- 
lation, or republication of a foreign or ancient book, 
does not necessarily imply any deg-ree of assent to the 
principles involved in the orig-inal writer's statements. 
The new version or edifion may be notliini^ more than 
a work of antiquarian or literary interest, by no means 
professing- any thing more than a belief that pei-sons 
will be found who will, from some motive or other, be 
glad to read it. 

Not so, however, in the case of a biography which, 
though not pi-etending to present the results of fresh 
researches, does profess to give an account new in shape, 
and adapted to tJie wants of the day in which it asks 
its share of public attention. In this case no pei-soa 
can honourably write, and no editor can honourably 
■auction, any statements but such as are not only pos- 



vm INTRODUCTORY JiSL/iY. 

eible and probable, but, allowing- for the clegTee of au- 
tiienticitj in each case claimed, on the whole historically 
true. No honest man, who absolutely disbelieves in aU 
documents in whicjli the original chronicler has ming'le'^^ 
nccounts of supernatural events with the record of his 
own personal knov:ledg-e, could possibly either write oi 
edit such Lives as those included in tlie following pages ; 
still less could they be made public by one who disbe- 
lieves in the reality of modern miracles altogether. 

In presenting-, then, the present and other similar 
volumes to the ordinary reader, I anticipate some such 
questions as these : " Do you really put these stories 
into our hands as history ? Are these marvellous tales 
to be regarded as poetry, romance, superstitious drenm- 
ing, or as historical realities ? If 3^ou profess to believe 
in their truth, hov/ do you reconcile their character with 
the universal aspect of liuman life, as it a])pears to tis 
and to our friends ? And finally, if you claim for then* 
the assent to which proved facts have a light from every 
candid mind, to what extent of detail do you profess to 
believe in their authenticity ?" To these and similar 
questions I reply by the following observations : 

The last of these questions maybe answered briefly. 
The lives of Saints and other remarkable personages, 
which are here and elsewhere laid in a popular form 
before the English public, are not all eqxialJy to be 
relied on as undoubtedly true in thelx various minute 
particulars. They stand precisely on the same fooling 
as the ordinary events of purely secular history ; and 
precisely the same degree of assent is claimed for them 
that the common reason of humanity accords to the 
general chronicles of our race. No man^ who wiites oi 



MIRACULOUS LIFT OF THE SAINTS. li 

edits a historj of distant events, professes to have pre- 
cisely the same amount of certainty as to all the many 
details which he records. Of some his cci-tainty is all 
but absolute ; of others he can say that he considers 
them highly probable ; of a third class he only alleges 
that they are vouched for by respectable though not 
numerous authorities. Still, he gi-oups them together 
in one complete and continuous story, and gives them 
to the world as Imtonj ; nor does the world impute to 
him either dishonesty, ignorance, credulity, or shallow- 
ness, because in every single event he does not specify 
the exact amount of evidence on which his statement 
rests. 

Just such is the measure of belief to be conceded 
to the Life of St. Frances, and other biogi-a^)hies 07 
sketches of a similar khid. Some portions, and those 
the most really importnnt and prominent, are well 
ascertained, incontrovortil)le, and sul)stnntially true. 
Others again, in all likelihood, took place very much, 
though not literally, in the way in which they are re- 
corded. Of others, they were possibly, or even pi'o1)a- 
bly, the more colouring of the writer, or were originally 
adopted on iminvestigated rumour. The}' are all, liow- 
ever, consistent with known facts, and the laws on 
wliicli humanity is g'ovei-ned by Divine Providence ; 
and therefore, as they may be tnie, they take their 
place in that vast multitude of histories which all can- 
did and well-informed persons acree in accepting a? 
worthy of credit, thouf>'h in various desTees. 

Supposing, then, that miraculous events may and 
do occur in the ])resent state of th.e world's history, it 
w obvious that tliese various degrees of assent are coio- 



I INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

manded alike by the supernatural and tlie natural evonta 
which are here so freely mingled together. Some are 
nndoubtedly true^ others are probably either fictitious 
or incorrectly recorded. The substance rests on the 
genuine documents, originally written by eye-witnesses 
and perfectly competent judges; and as such, the whole 
stands simply as a result of the gathering together of 
historical testimony. 

Here, however, the ordinary English reader meets 
us with the assertion, that the supernatural portions of 
such lives are simply impossihie. He assumes — for I 
am not exaggerating when I say that he never tries to 
p7'ove — that these marvellous interruptions of the laws 
of nature never take place. Consequently, in his judg- 
ment, it is purely ridiculous to put forth such stories 
as history ; and writers who issue them are guilty 
either of folly, ig-norance, superstition, or an imprin- 
cipled tam_pering with the credulity of unenlightened 
minds. Of those who thus meet the question of his- 
torical evidence by an assumption of a universal ab- 
stract impassibility, I earnestly beg an unprejudiced 
attention to the following considerations : 

If it be once admitted that there is a God, and that 
the soul is not a mere portion of the body, the ex- 
istence of miracles becomes at once probable. Apar-t 
from the records of experience, we should in fact have 
expected that events which are now termed miraculous 
would have been perhaps as common as those which 
are regulated by what we call the laws of nature. Let 
it be only gTanted that the visible universe is not the 
Tvlwh universe, and that in reality we are ever in a 
state of most intimate real communion with Him who 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. » 

its Creator; then, I say, we sliould have expected 
to have been as habitually conscious of our intercourse 
with that g-reat Being", as of our intercourse with one 
another. The true marvel is, that we are not thus 
habitually conscious of the Divine Presence, and that 
God is really out of our sig-lit. If there is a God, who 
is ever around us and within us, tvny does He not com- 
municate with us through the medium of our senses, as 
He enables us to communicate witli one another ? Our 
fouls hold mutual communion throug'h the intervention 
of this corporal frame, with such a distinct and unde- 
niable reality, that we are as conscious of our inter- 
course as of the contact of a material substance with 
our material bodies. Why, then, — since it is so infi- 
nitely more important to us to hold ceaseless communi- 
cation with our Maker, — why is it tliat our interconi-se 
with Him is of a totally different nature ? Why is it 
that the material creation is not the ordinary instiai- 
ment by which our souls converse witli Him ? Let any 
man seriously ponder upon this awful question, and he 
must hasten to the conclusion, tliat tliough experience 
has shown us that the world of matter is not the or- 
dinary channel of converse between God and man, 
there yet remains an ovei-^N-helming- probability that 
some such intercourse takes place occasionally between 
the soul and that God throug-h whose power alone slie 
continues to exist. 

In other words, the existence of miracles is proba- 
ble ratlier tlian othenvise. A miracle is an event in 
which the laws of nature are interrupted by the inter- 
vention of Divine agency, usually for the purpose of 
bringing the soul of man into a conscious contact with 



Xn INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

tlie inhabitants of the invisible world. With more o. 
less exactness of similitude, a miracle establishes be- 
tween God and man, or between other spiritual beings 
and man, that same kind of intercourse which exists be- 
tv:een different living- individuals of the himian race. 
Such a conscious intercourse is indeed asserted by infidels 
as well as by atheists, to be, if not impossible, at least so 
utterly improbable, that it is scarcely within the power 
of proof to make it credible to the unbiassed reason. 
Yet surely the balance of probability inclines co the 
very opposite side. If there is a God, and our souls 
a7'e in communication (of some kind) with Him, surely, 
prior to experience, we should have expected to be 
habitually conscious of tliis communion. And now 
t^iat we see that we are not at any rate habitually so, 
still the burden of proof rests with those who alleg-e 
that such conscious intercourse never takes place. 
Apart fi'om all proof of the reality of any one processed 
miracle, the infidel is bound to show 9vh2/ all miracles 
are improbable or impossible ; in other words, why man 
should never be conscious of the presence and will of 
his ever-present God. 

Protestants, how^ever, and even weak Catholics, re- 
gard the record of one of those mysterious lives, in 
which the soul of a man or woman has been repeatedly 
brought into this species of communion with invisible 
beings, as a tale which, though it is just possible that 
it may be true, is yet, on the face of it, so flag'rant a 
violation of the laws of nature, as to be undeserving of 
positive hearty belief. They confound the laws of phy- 
Eical nature with the laws of universal nature. They 
speak of the nature of this material earth, as if it was 



MlRACULOtrS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XUJ 

jdentical with the nature of things. And this con 
fusion of thoug-ht it is to which I woukl especially call 
att*>ntion. Miracles are contrary to the ordinary laws 
of physical nature, and therefore are so far improhahle, 
but they are in the strictest conformity with the nature 
3f thing's, and therefore in themselves are probable. 
If the laws of nature rule God as they control man, a 
miracle is almost an impossibility ; but if God rules 
the laws of nature, then it is wonderful that something" 
nui'aculous does not befal us every day of our lives. 

Ag-ain, it is in a hig-li degi-ee probable that miracu- 
lous events will g'enerally, so to say, take then* colour 
from the special .jnaractei of that relation which may 
exist between God and man at the time when they 
come to pass. If, in the inscnitable counsels of the 
Almig-hty, man is placed, during- different eras in his 
history, in different circumstances towards liis Creator 
and Preserver, it would seem only natural that the 
variations in those circumstances should be impressed 
upon the extraordinary intercourse between God and 
His people. Or, to use the common Christian term, 
each dispensation will have its peculiar supernatural 
aspect, as well as its peculiar spiritual and invisible re- 
lationship. If man was orig-inally in a higher and more 
perfect state of being than he is now, it is probable that 
his communion with God was singularly, if not totally, 
unlike what it has been since he fell from pi-imeval 
blessedness. If after his fall, two temporary states 
have been appointed to him by his God, then the mira- 
cles of each epoch will benr their own special correspond- 
ing" characteristics. And lastly, if b}' a new exercise of 
regenerating and restoring' power it hag pleased the 



XI7 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

rnvi:s:ble One to rescue His creatures from the conse« 
quences of their ancient ruin, then again we may ex- 
pect to recognise the history of that redemption in the 
whole course of the miraculous intercourse hetween the 
Redeemer and the redeemed until the end of time. 
The supernatural elements in the Paradisiacal, the Pa- 
triarchal, the Mosaic, and the Christian states, may be 
expected to be in many respects distinct, each embody- 
ing with awful and glorious power the invisible rela- 
tions which the God of nature and of grace has thought 
fit to assume towards His creatures. 

And such, in fact^ has been the case. Not only is 
the ceaseless existence of a miraculous intercourse be-- 
tween God and man one of the most completely proved 
of all historical events, but the miracles of each dis- 
pensation are found in a wonderftd degree to correspond 
with the relationship of God to man in each of the se- 
parate epochs. The same superhuman consistency is 
found to pervade all the works of God, both where 
nature and grace are separate from one another, and 
where the common laws of nature are burst through, 
and the material universe is made as it were the bond- 
slave of the unseen. The impiously meant assertions 
of unbelief are fulfilled in a sense which unbelievers 
little lojk for j and they who cry out in their hatred of 
miracles, that all things are governed by unchanging 
law, may learn that in truth unchanging laws do rule 
over all, although those laws have a range and a unity 
in the essence and will of God, of which mortal intel- 
ligence never dreamed, The natural and the super- 
natural, the visible and the invisible, the ordinary and 
tiic miraculous, the rules of the physical creation and 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XI 

the interruptions of those rules, — all are controlled by 
one law, shaped according* to one plan, directed by one 
aim, and bound to one another by indissoluble ties, 
even where to human eyes all seem lost in confusion 
and thwarted by mutual strug-g-le. 

Of what we should now call the miraculous, or 
supernatural, communion between God and man in Pa- 
radise, we know historically but little. The records of 
revelation being- for the most part confined to the state 
of man as he is, and his actual and future prospects, 
present but a g-limpse of the conscious communion 
which was permitted to the first of our race in their 
original bliss. It is, however, believed by theologians, 
that in Paradise what we should now term miracles did 
not exist ; for this reason, that what is now extraordi- 
nary was then ordinary. God conversed with man, and 
man held communion with aug-els, directly and habitu- 
ally ; so that in a certain sense man saw God and the 
world now unseen.* For it is not the mere possession 
of a body which binds the soul with the chains of sense; 
it is tlie corruption and sinfulness of our present liames 
which has converted them into a hairier between the 
spirit within and the invisible universe. As Adam 
came forth all pure and perfect from the hands of his 
Creator, a soul dwelling* in a body, his whole being 
ministered fitly to the purposes of his creation, and with 
body and soul tog-ether he conversed with his God. It 
was not till the physical sense became his instrument of 
rebellion, that it was dishonoured and made liis prison- 
house, and laid under a curse which should never b» 

* Sm St. Thomas, Summa, pars prima, qiuest. 94. art l»& 



X.V3 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

full}'' removed until the last gTeat day of the resm'rec* 
tion. 

Upon the fall of Adam, a new state was intro- 
duced, which lasted about two thousand five hundred 
vears. During* its continuance, the supernatural inter- 
course between Almighty God and His degraded crea- 
tures took an entirely different character. What had 
originally been continual, and as it were natural, be- 
came comparatively rare and miraculous. Henceforth 
there seemed to be no God among men, save when at 
times the usual laws of the earth and the heavens were 
suspended and God spoke in accents which none might 
refuse to hear. Of these supernatural manifestations 
the general aspect was essentially typical of the fiiture 
redemption of the lost race by a Saviour. That promise 
of deliverance from the consequences of sin, which Al- 
mighty God had vouchsafed to the first sinners, was 
repeated in a vast variety of miraculous interventions. 
Though there may have been many exceptions to the 
ordinary character of the Patriarchal miracles, still, on 
the whole, they wear a typical aspect of the most strik- 
ing* prominence. 

The first miracle recorded after the fall is the token 
granted to Abel that his sacrifice was accepted. A 
deluge destroys all but one family, who are saved in an 
ark, the type of the Church of God, and a rainbow is 
set in the sky as a type of the covenant between God 
and man. A child is miraculously bom to Abraham in 
his old age, who is afterwards offered to God as a type 
of the Redeemer, and saved from death by a fresh super- 
natural manifestation of the Di^dne will. The chosen 
race become captive in Egypt, as a figui'e of man^s 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XTO 

bondag-e to sin ; a series of awful miracles, wrought by 
the instrumentalit}^ of Moses himself, a type of Jesus 
Christ, delivers them from their slavery, terminating 
with the inh^titution of the Passover, when tho paschaj 
himb is eaten, and they are saved hy its hlood, as man- 
kind is saved hy the hlood of the Lamh of God. The 
ransomed people miraculously pass through the Red 
Sea, foreshadowing the Christian's regeneration hy bap- 
tism ; as they wander afterwards in the desert, maima 
lescends from heaven to feed them, and water gushes 
from the rock to quench their thirst, and to prefigure 
that sacred food and those streams of grace which are 
to be the salvation of all men. Almost every interrup- 
tion of tlie laws of nature bespeaks the advent of the 
Redeemer, and does homage to Him as the Lord of 
earth and heaven. 

At length a code of laws is given to the chosen 
race, to separate them completely from the rest of men, 
and a promise of perpetual temporal prosperity is 
granted to them hy God as the reward of their obe- 
dience, and as a figure of tlie eternal blessedness of the 
just. From that time, with, as before, occasional ex- 
ceptions, the supernatural events which befal them 
wear a new aspect. Their peculiarly typical import is 
exchanged for one more precisely in conformity with 
the leading principle of the new dispensation. The rites 
and ceremonies of the new Law prefigiu*e the Sacrifice 
and Redemption of the Messias; but the miracles of 
the next fifteen hundred years are for the most part 
directed to uphold that rule of present reward and pu- 
nishment, which was the characteristic feature of the 
Jewish theocracy. The earth opens to punish the dis- 



XVlil INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

ibeditnv s of Core and Hs companions. Fiery serpent* 
smite tht murmuring crowd with instant death ; while 
?.he promijed Saviour is prefigured, not by a miracle, 
but by the erection of a brazen serpent by the hands of 
Moses. The walls of Jericho fall prostrate before the 
trumpets f)f the victorious Israelites ; one man, Achan, 
unlawfully conceals some of the spoil, and an immediate 
supernatural panic, struck into his coimtrymen, betrays 
the committal of the sin. Miraculous water fills the 
fleece of Gedeon, to encourage him to fight for his 
country's deliverance. An angel foretells the bii-th of 
Samson to set his people free, when they are again in 
bondage. Samson himself is endowed with supernatural 
strength 5 exhausted with the slaughter of his foes, 
he prays for water to quench his thirst, and a stream 
bui'sts forth from the ass's jawbone with which he had 
mst slain the Philistines. Bound in chains, blinded^ 
and m-ade a je-st b}^ fhe idolaters, his prayer for a retm^n 
of his streiigth is heard by God, and he destroys a mul- 
titude in his last moments. 

And thus, through all the history of the Kings and 
the Prophets, the power of God is repeatedly put forth 
to alter the laws of nature for the purpose of enforcing 
the great rule of the Mosaic law. The disobedience of 
the Jews might, if God had so pleased, have been in- 
variably punished by the instrumentality of the ordinary 
course of events, shaped by the secret hand of Divine 
Providence so as to execute His will, just as now we find 
that certain sins inevitably bring on their own tempo- 
ral punishment by the operation of the laws of nature. 
And so, in the vast majority of instances in which the 
Jews were rewarded and punished, we find that the 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. TIX 

Divine promises and threats were fulfilled by the occur- 
rence of events in the natural order of things. But yet 
frequently miracles confirmed and aided the work ot 
chastisement and blessing; and of the numerous won- 
ders which were wrought from the giving of the law to 
the coming of Christ, we find that nearly all bore this 
peculiar character. For many centuries also a constant 
miraculous guidance was granted to the people in the 
" Urim and Thummim," by which they were enabled, 
when they chose to remain faithful, to escape all national 
calamities and enjoy the fullest blessings of the pro- 
mised land. 

Under the Christian dispensation, again, a new cha- 
i-acter is imprinted upon the supernatural history of the 
Church, which is, in fact, the impression of the Cross of 
Christ. While the characteristics of the Patriarchal 
and Jewish miracles are not whoMy obliterated, an ele- 
ment, which if not entirely new, is new in the intensity 
of its operation, is introduced into the miraculous life of 
tlie children of Chi-ist, which life is really the prolonga- 
tion of the supernatural life of Jesus Christ Himself. It 
is accompanied also with a partial restoration of that 
peculiar power which was possessed by man before he 
fell, when his body became a veil to hide the world of 
spirits from his soul. While prophecies of future events 
have not wholly ceased in the Christian Church, and 
miracles are fre(|uently wrought for the conferring of 
some temporal blessings, yet these other wonderful fea- 
tures distinguish the supernatural records of Chris- 
tianity from those of both Patriarchal and Jewij>h times. 
The undying power of the Cross is manifested in the 
peculiar sufferings of the Saints, in their mystic com- 



XX INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

murion with the invisible world, and in that especia. 
sanctity to which alone miraculous gifts are for the 
most part accorded under the Gospel. Not that al) 
these three peculiarities are to he observed in the life of 
every Saint under the Gospel. Far from it, indeed. 
The supernatural life of the Saints varies with different 
individuals, according- to the pleasure of that Almighty 
Spirit, who communicates Himself to His elect in ten 
thousand mysterious ways, and manifests Himself ac- 
cording to His own will alone. Still, at times, they 
are found united, in conjunction with those miraculous 
powers which were possessed under the old dispensa- 
tions in one individual. In such cases we behold the 
Life and Passion of the King of Saints visibly renewed 
before our eyes; the law oi suffering, — that mysterious 
power, as life-giving as it is unfathomable, — is set be- 
fore us in an intensity of operation, which at once calls 
forth the scoffs of the unbeliever, and quickens the faith 
of the humble Christian ; the privileges of eternity are 
anticipated, and the blessings of a lost Paradise are in 
part restored. Jesus Christ lives, and is in agony before 
us ; the dread scene of Calvary is renewed, united with 
those ineffable communications between the suffering 
soul and its God, which accompanied the life and last 
hours of the Redeemer of mankind. Our adorable Lord 
is, as it were, still incarnate amongst us, displaying to 
our reverent faith the glories of His Passion in the per- 
sons of those who are, in the highest sense that is pos- 
sible. His members, a portion of His humanity, in whom 
He dwells, who dwell in Him, and whose life, in a 
degree incomprehensible even to themselves, is hid with 
Christ in God. Such a Saint was St. Frances of Rome, 



MIR.^CULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XXl 

one of tiiose glonous creations of Divine giace by means 
of which, at the time when the Holy City was filled 
with bloodshed and ravaged with pestilence, and when 
the heaviest disasters afflicted the Church, Almighty 
(}od set forth before men the undying- life of the Cross, 
and the reality of that religion which seemed to be 
powerless to check the outrag'es of its professed fol- 
lowers. 

In Paradise, then, as has been said, the whole na- 
ture of man ministered to the fulfilment of the end for 
which he was created, namely, the knowledg'e and love 
of God. He came forth from his Maker's hands en- 
dowed not only with a natural soul and body imtainted 
with sin, but with such supernatural g'ifts, arising from 
the Divine Presence within him, that nothing- was 
wanting- but perseverance to his final perfection. The 
various elements in his nature were not, as now, at war 
with one another. His body did not blind the eye of 
his soul, and ag-itate it with the storms of concupis- 
cence; nor did the soul employ the body as its instru- 
ment of rebellion ag-ainst God. Though not yet ad- 
mitted to that glorious vision of the Eternal which was 
to be the reward of his obedience, 3'et he lived in direct 
commerce with the world of spirits. He knew and 
conversed with God and His angels in a way which 16 
now wholly incomprehensible to the vast majority of 
his descendants. 

When Adam fell, he became, m one word, what we 
all are now by nature. Not only was he placed under 
a curse, but his God was hidden from his eyes ; and 
that corporeal habitation, which he had abused to his 
soul's destniction, became the prison of his soul's cap- 



1X11 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

tivity. Though created in the image of God, and re- 
taining, even when fallen, certain traces of his celestial 
origin, he hecame a mere helpless denizen of earth, and 
n veil descended and hid his God and all spiritual beings 
from his mind. From that time forwards 5?/^ri?2,^ be- 
came not merely the law of his daily life, but the only 
means by which he could be first restored to the Divine 
favour, and finally be taken to a happy eternity. And 
inasmuch as he was to be redeemed b}"" the sufferings 
of One who was at once man and not man. He was in 
a certain sense to share those sufferings, in order to 
partake in the blessings they purchased for him. A 
mystic union was to take place between the Saviour 
and the fallen race, of which a community in suffering, 
as the instrument of resToration, was to be for ever and 
in every case established. This anguish, fiu-ther, was 
to be twofold, including all the faculties both of the 
body and the soul Man had sinned in his whole 
being-; in his whole being, therefore, he was to suffer, 
both in the pei'son of his Redeemer, who was to suffer 
for him, and in himself, who was to suffer with his Sa- 
viour. A " holocaust" was to be offered to the offended 
Majesty of God; an offering, not only of his entire 
nature, but a hurnt offering; a sacrifice which shoidd 
torture him in the flames of Divine vengeance, and kill 
him with its annihilating fierceness. 

As, however, it pleased the Divine Wisdom to post- 
pone for forty centuries the advent and atonement of 
the Redeemer, so, for the same period, the race re- 
deemed participated, in a comparatively slight degree, 
in tliose restorative sufferings which derived all their 
virtue from the sacrifice upon the Cross. Pangs of 



IIIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XXIU 

body and bitterness of soul were, in truth, the lot of 
man from the moment that Adam sinned; but thejr 
were the yjang-s and bitterness of a criminal under \mn- 
ishment, far more than the sacrificial pains of the 
members of Christ crucified. Asceticism formed but a 
small portion of the relig'ious worship of the people of 
God, until the great atonement was completed upon 
Calvary. Not that any deg'ree, even the lowest, of ac- 
ceptable obedience could ever be attained without some 
measure of the crucifixion of the natm-al man. Pa- 
triarchs and Israelites alike felt the power of the Cross 
as the instrument of tlieir sanctification. But still 
earthly prosj)erity, inchiding- bodily pleasures, was, as 
a rule, the reward with which God recompensed His 
faithful servants. That which became the rule under 
the Gospel, was the exception from Adam till Moses, 
and from IMoses until Christ. Here and there some 
great example of Christian asceticism enforced upon a 
sensual people the nature of perfect sanctity. EJias 
fasted on Mount Carmel, and beheld the skirts of the 
g-lory of the Most Hig'h. The Ba})tist fasted and tamed 
his natural fiesh in the wilderness, and beheld not only 
the Incarnate Son of God, but the descent of the Eter- 
nal Spirit upon Him. Yet, for the most part, the fa- 
voured servants of God li^^ed the lives of ordinary men; 
they possessed houses, riches, and honours ; and mairied 
wives, even more than one. 

At length the Cross was set up in all its awfid 
power ; sutfering received its perfect consecration, and 
took its ruling* place in the economy of man's redemp- 
tion. Jesus, in descending* from the Cross, bestowed 
that Ci\:ss upon His cliildien, to be theu' tieasure "onti' 



rXlV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

fche end of the world. Crucifixion with Him, and 
tliroug'h Him; as their Head, became their portion and 
their g'lory. Every soul that was so buried in His 
wounds as to receive the fiill blessinors of His sacrifice, 
was thereby nailed, in Christ, to the Cross, not to de- 
scend from its hallowed wood until, like Christ, it was 
dead thereon. Henceforth the sanctity of God's chosen 
servants assumes its new character. It is no long-er 
written, " I will bring" you into a land flowing* with the 
milk and honey of this earth ;" but, " Blessed are the 
poor, and they that sufior persecution." The lot of 
Abraham and of David is exchang-ed for that of St. 
Peter and St. Paul. In place of triumph in war with 
the idolaters, the Christian is promised persecution ; in 
place of many herds and flocks, and treasures of gold. 
God gives him poverty and sickness ; the fast, the vigii^ 
the scourg-e, take place of the palaces of cedar and the 
luxuriant couch; marriage gives way to celibacy; and 
long" life is a privilege in order that in many years we 
may sufter much, and not that we may enjoy much. 
Such is the ordinarv course of the Divine dealinsrs with 
the soul since the Cross received its full mysterious 
saving power. 

And to the full as mysterious is the new character 
imprinted upon the miraculous life of Christian sanctity. 
The phenomena of that new existence, in which certain 
souls are broug-ht into mystic communion with the un- 
seen world, bear the print of the wounds of the Eternal 
Son in a manner which fills the ordinary Christian 
mind with amazement and trembling-. It is by a pain- 
ful crucifixion of the natural man, both soul and body, 
cariied to a far more than ordinary perfection, that the 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XXt 

foul is introduced into tliis miraculous condition. Im- 
prisoned in lier flesiilj tabernncle, wliich, though re- 
generated, is throug-h sin foul, earthly, and blinding 
as ever, tlie mind can only be admitted to share in the 
communion which Jesus Christ unceasingly held with 
His Father and with the world invisible, by attaining 
some portion of that self-mastery which Adam lost by 
his fall. The physical nature must be subdued by the 
vigorous repetition of those many painful processes by 
which the animal portion of our being is rendered the 
slave oftlie spiritual, and the will and the affections 
are rent away from all creatures, to be fixed on God 
alone. Fasting and abstinence are the first elements 
in this ascetic course. The natural taste is neglected, 
thwarted, and tormented, till, wearied of soliciting its 
own gratification, it ceases to interfere with tlie inde- 
pendent action of the soul. The appetite is further de- 
nied its wonted satisfaction as to quantity of foc^l. By 
fasts gradually increasing in severity, new modes of 
physical existence are introduced ; that wliich was ori- 
ginally an impossibility becomes a second law of nature; 
and the emaciated frame, forgetting its former lusts, 
obeys almost spontaneously the dictates of the victorious 
spirit within. The hours of sleep are curtailed under 
judicious control, until that mysterious sentence which 
compels us to pass a third of our existence in uncon- 
scious helplessness is in part repealed. The soul, habi- 
tuated to incessant and self-collected action, wakes and 
lives, while ordinary Christians slumber, and as it were 
are dead. The infliction of other severe bodily pains 
co-operates in the purifying* process, and enables the 
mind to disregard the dictates of nature to an extent 



XXVI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

whicli to many Catliolics seems almost incredible, and 
to the unbeliever an utter impossibility. Physical life 
is supported under conditions wliich would crush a con- 
stitution not supported bj the miraculous aid of al- 
mighty power • and feeble men and women accomplish 
works of charity and heroic self-sacrilic6 from which 
the most robust and energetic of the human race, in 
their highest state of natural perfection, would shrink 
back in dismay as hopeless impossibilities. The senses 
are literally tyrannised over, scorned, derided, insult- 
ingly trampled on. The sight, tlie smell, the hearing, 
the touch, and the taste, are taught to exercise them- 
selves upon objects revolting to theu* original inclina- 
tions. They learn to minister to the wall without dis- 
playing one rebellious symptom. Matter yields to 
spirit; the soul is the master of the body; while the 
perceptions of the intelligence attain an exquisite sensi- 
bility, and the mind is gifted with faculties absolutely 
new, the flesh submits, almost insensible to its condition 
of servitude, and scarcely murmurs at the daily death 
it is compelled to endm'e. 

The process is the same in all that regards the af- 
fections and passions of the mind itself. The heart is 
denied every thing that it desires, which is not God. 
However innocent, however praiseworthy, may be the 
indulgence in certain feelings, and the gratification of 
certain pursuits in ordinary Christians, in the case of 
these favoured soids nature is crushed in all her parts. 
Her faculties remain, but they are directed to spiritual 
things alone. Possessions of all kinds, lands, houses, 
books, pictures, gardens, husband, wife, children, friends^ 
—all share the same tremendous sentence. God esta- 



MIRACULOUS LIFF: OF THE SAINTS. XXVll 

blislies Himself in the soul, not only supreme, but as 
the only inhabitant. Whatsoever remains to be done in 
this world is done as a duty, often as a most obnoxious 
duty. Love for the souls that Christ has redeemed is 
the only human feeling* that is left unsubjugated ; and 
wheresoever the emotions of natural affection and friend- 
ship mingle with this Christian love, they are watched, 
and restrained with unsparing" severity, that the heart 
may come at last to love nothing, except in Christ 
Himielf. 

All this, indeed, repeatedly takes place in the case 
of persons in whom the pm*ely miraculous hfe of the 
Christian Saint is never even commenced. It is that 
wliicli all monks and nuns are boimd to struggle for, 
according to the different rules to which they have re- 
spectively received their vocation. And, by the mercy 
of God, this perfect detachment from earth, and this 
marvellous cnicifixion of the flesh, is accomplished m 
many a devout religious, to whom the extraordinary 
gifts of the Holy Ghost are as unknown as His extraor- 
dinary graces are familiar. Still, in those exceptior.ol 
instances where miraculous powers of any species are 
bestowed, this bitter death, this personal renewal (a? 
far as man can renew it) of the agonies of Calvary, is 
ordinarily the necessary preparation for admission to 
the revelations of the Divine glory, and to the other 
mysteries of the miraculous life. 

The physical nature, then, being thus subdued, and 
taught to be the obedient servant of the sanctified will, 
the history of the Catholic Church records a Ions* series 
of instances in which the soul has been brought into 
liii'ect commimion with God, with angels, and with 



XXViil INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

devils, more or less throiig-li the sensible instru'.nentalifcr 
of the hodily senses, thus spiritualised and exalted to a 
new office. The ineffable glories of the Ufe of Christ 
are renewed in those who have thus endrred the cros9 
cf Christ. The death of the body is the life of the soul ; 
an 1 the Son of God is, as it were, again visibly incar- 
nate in the world which He has redeenied. 

The phenomena of this miraculous state are as 
various as they are wonderful. TLei-e is scarcely a 
natural law of our being w^hich is not found to be fre- 
quently suspended. Such is the odour of sanctity, a 
celestial perfume that exhales from the person of the 
Saint, in conditions where any such delicious fragi'ance 
could not possibly spring fi-om natiu'al causes, and where 
even, as in the case of a dead body, nature would send 
forth scents of the most repulsive kind. In such in- 
stances, sometimes in life, sometimes in death, some- 
times in health, sometimes in loathsome diseases, there 
issues from the physical frame an odour of unearthly 
sweetness, perhaps communicating itself to objects which 
touch the saintly form. 

Or a strange supernatural warmth peiwades the 
entire body, wholly independent of the condition of the 
atmosphere, and in circumstances when by the laws of 
nature the limbs would be cold j sometimes, while sick- 
ness has reduced the system to such a degree of ex- 
haustion, and brought on so morbid an action of tho 
fLinctions, that the stomach rejects, with a sort of ab- 
horrence, every species of food, the most holy Eucharist 
IS received without difficulty, and seems not only to be 
thus received, but to furnish sufficient sustenance for 
fehe attenuated frame. Not unfrequently corruptioa 



MIRACULOUS LI^'E OF THE SAINTS. XXU 

has no power over a sacred corpse ; and witLoiit tLe 
employment of any of the common processes for em~ 
balmino-^ centm-ies pass away, and the body of the Saint 
remains untouched by decay, bearing the impress of 
life in death, and not crumbUng- to dust, as in cases of 
natm-al preservation, when exposed to the action of the 
atmosphere. Add to these, the supernatural flexibility 
and lightness with which at times the living* body is 
endowed by Divine power j the physical accompaniment 
of ecstasy ; the elevation of the entu-e body from the 
gTOund, and its suspension m the air for a considerable 
space of time j and we have sufficient examples of the 
mysterious ways in which the bodies of Saints bespeak 
the purity wliich dwells within them, and in a deg-reo 
anticipate the corporeal perfections of those g-lorifled 
habitations in which the souls of the just will dwell 
after the resuiTection. 

By another class of Lfiiraculous powei's possessed bv 
Christian Saints, they are enablea to recognise the true 
nature or presence of purely spiritual objects by *he in- 
strumentality of theu" natural organs of sense. Thus, 
a mere touch at times reveals to them the moral con- 
dition of the person on whom they lay their hands. A 
siugTilar distaste for natural food is accompanied by a 
perception of a celestial sweetness in the holy Eucharist. 
Gross sinners appear to the sight in the form of hideous 
monsters, demoniacal in their aspect, or as wearing the 
look of the most repulsive of the brute creation. The 
sense of smell, in like manner, detects the state of the 
soul, while the ear is opened to heavenly sounds and 
voices, and Almighty God speaks to the inner conscious- 
ness in a manner which, inexplicable as it is when ie- 



KJ.X INTRODUCTORY ESSAT 

fined in tlie language of liiiman science, is shown by 
incontestable proofs to be a real communication from 
heaven to the enlio-litened intelliei'ence. 

In cei'tain cases the animal creation are taught to 
do homage to the presence of a Saint. , As God opened 
the eyes of Balaam's ass, and it beheld the messenger 
of Divine wrath standing with a sword in his hand, 
so birds, fishes, insects, sheep, and the wildest beasts 
of the forests, have at times saluted the Saints with 
•oj and sweetness, laving* aside their natural timidity 
Dr their natural ferocity, and recalling the hour when 
Adam dwelt in sinless peace in Eden, surroimded by 
the creatures which the hand of God had made. All 
nature is bid thus to arise to welcome the elect of the 
Lo^'d of nature. Flowers spring- up beneath their feet ; 
fruits suddenly ripen, and invite them to gather and 
eat; storms cease, and. gentle winds refresh the sky. 
Every where the presence of Him who lulled the tem- 
pest with a word is recognised in the souls in w^hom He 
dwells, and in whom He thus, in a mystic sense, fulfils 
His own promise, that the meek shall possess the land. 

Thus, again, time and space are in their aegree 
comparatively annihilated for the sake of some of tnese 
favoured servants of the Eternal and Omnipresent. St, 
Pius v., while bodily in Rome, was a witness of the 
naval victory of the Christians over the Turks; St. 
Joseph of Cupertino read letters addressed to him while 
their authors were writing them far away ; St. Domi- 
nic foresaw the war of the Albigenses, and the death 
of Peter of Arragon ; and St. Ig-natius beheld his suc- 
cessor in the Duke of Gandia. A similar mysterious 
Swulty enables its possessor to discern the presence of 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XXX 

rel .cs and other sacred objects, more especially of the 
adorable Eucharistic species ; or even to behold Jesus 
Christ Himself in His g-lorified human form, in place of 
the usiial appearance of bread and wine ; while in some 
instances the Host has darted, miborne by mortal hand, 
into the month of a Saint about to communicate at the 
foot of the altar. 

On those species of miracles which are in no way 
peculiar to the Christian dispensation I need not ling-er. 
Such is the gift of healing-, whether by the Saint's will and 
touch while alive, or by his relics and intercession when 
dead. Such is the gift of prophecy, which abounded, as 
we might have expected, far more in the Saints beforb 
"he advent of the Redeemer than since His coming, and 
which, indeed, was not rigidly confined to men of reli- 
gious character. Such are those supernatural powers by 
which our present temporal blessings, in addition to tlie 
cure of diseases, are confen-ed upon individuals or com- 
munities by the instrumentality of holy men and women. 
T confine myself to those more peculiarly Christian pri- 
vileges, which, though they were not wholly unknown 
to the Patrinrchal and Mosaic Saints, are yet eminently 
characteristic of those times in which the glorification 
of the humanity of Jesus appears to have shed a mea 
3ure of glories upon the bodies of those who most in 
:snsely share the sufferings of His cross. 

Some of these tokens of the perpetual death of the 
Son of God in His Saints were, indeed, for several cen- 
turies either unknown, or extraordinarily rare in the 
Christian Church herself. Such is that most awfid oi 
the displays of the imdying power of the Cross, in which 
'he actual wounds and toi-tm-es of the crucified Jesw 



KSU INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

aie visibly renewed, by a miraculous agency, in the 
persons of His cliosen ones. This most terrible of :lie 
gifts of tne g'reat God is generally preceded by some 
supernatural occurrence foreshadowing the visible re- 
presentation of the scene on Calvary about to be set up 
before the eyes of men. At one time it is a species 
of bloody sweat, like that of Jesus Christ in the garden 
of Gethsemani ; at another, a visible print of the cross 
is impressed upon the shoulders; or angels present a 
mystic cup of suffering' to the hands of the self-sacri- 
ficing Saint. Then follows what is termed stigmatisa- 
Uon, or the renewal of the actual wounds of the Cruci- 
fied, accompanied with the bloody marks of the crown 
of thorns upon the sufferer's head; for the most part 
one by one, until the whole awful commemoration is 
complete, the skin and flesh are rent on the forehead 
and round the head, in the hands, in the feet, and in 
the side ; a stream of gore pours forth, at times trickling 
down in slow drops, at times (as on Fridays) in a fuller 
tide, accompanied with agonising' pangs of body, and 
except in the fiercest moments of spiritual conflict, with 
interior consolations of ravishing sweetness. The wounds 
pierce deep down into the flesh, running* even through 
the hands and the feet. 

The state of ecstasy is another of the most wonder- 
ful ^f the elements of the miraculous life of the Saints. 
Under the Di^dne influence the physical frame under- 
goes a chang'e in many respects similar to that wliich is 
supposed (whether truly or falsely) to result from the 
operation of magnetism or somnambulism. Many fea- 
tures, at the same time, distinguish the Christian ec- 
iatic condition from that which is produced by purely 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OP THE SAINTS. XXZUl 

pi) jsical or (it may be) diabolical causes, on which w^ 
cannot at present enter in detail.. It is sufficient to say; 
that the results of the true ecstasy are in the strictesi^. 
conformity with the doctrines of the Christian revela- 
tion, and in perfect harmony with the perfections and 
rules of the moral world. 

The soul in this state becomes, as it were, independen* 
of the power of the body, or slie uses her physical senses 
in an absolute subordination to her own illumined will. 
Visions, such as are recorded in the Old Testament m 
the case of the prophets, are presented to her faculties. 
She is introduced into the courts of heaven, and beholds 
and converses with Saints in gflory, with the Mother of 
God, with Jesus Christ Himself. Or the whole mystery 
of the Passion is re-enacted before her spiritualised sig-ht, 
the evang'elical history being filled up with all those 
actual but minuter details wliich are omitted in the 
written records of the Gospels, In certain cases, the 
body itself is lifted up from the gTound, and so remains 
for a while in the presence of a crowd of bystanders. In 
others, the soul, while in ecstasy, is the medium of com- 
munication between Almig'hty God and otlier persons 
then present, and the Saint's voice repeats the revela- 
tions to those for whom they are desig-ned. Or, ag-ain, 
an unearthly flame shining- around the head or whole 
person of the ecstatic, like tlie cloven tongues upon the 
Apostles at Pentecost, attests tlie presence of the Invi- 
sible, and symbolises the messag-e sent forth from His 
throne to men. 

A more purely intellectual vision or revelation is 
another of the works of the Holy Ghost in His Saints. 
By su(!h revelations, for the most part, the truths af 



SKXIV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

holy Scripture were communicated to its writers. God, 
who created the human soul with all its faculties, and 
who is able to make known His will in any way that 
He pleases to the intelligence, has His own mysterious 
but not less accurate tests, by which He enables the 
favoured spirit to discern a revelation from a mere 
product of the human imagination, and to distinguish 
between the voice of God and the suggestions of Satan. 
Nor was this mode of intercourse between the soul and 
her God confined exclusively to the elder dispensations 
or to apostolic ages. Many a Christian Saint has been 
privileged to contemplate God Himself, in a certain sense, 
in His essence ; beholding,- the depths of such m-ysteries 
as those of the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, the Eu- 
charistic Presence, or the true nature of sin, with a 
dii'ectness of vision, and comprehending them to an ex- 
tent, w^hich passes the powers of human language to 
define. 

Lastly, all that we read in the Bible respecting tiie 
visible and tangible intercourse between man and the 
angelic and diabolic host is continued in the times of 
Christianity. The reality of the ministration of angels 
and of the assaults of demons, in the case of all Chris- 
tiiins, is believed by every Catholic ; but in very many 
cases the Saints have become as conscious of the pre- 
sence and actions of their unseen friends and foes as 
of the presence and actions of mortal men. To some 
Saints, our blessed Lord Himself has appeared in human 
form, perhaps in that of the most despised and miserable 
of the poor and sick; to others, their guardian-angels 
or other pure spirits have presented themselves, some- 
times in the guise of ordinary men, and sometimes in a 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. XXXT 

manifestly supernatural shape Often, too, the enlig-lit- 
ened soul has beheld Satan and his accursed spirits, 
either working- it some bodily injury, or assaulting* it 
with some subtle temptation, or seeking* to scare it by 
assuming" some hideous loathsome shai)e, or assuming 
the g-arb of an ang-el of lig-ht for tiie purpose of ac- 
complishing- his hellish ends. Of all these supernatural 
[)lienomena, however, illustrations will readily occur to 
those who are fimiliar with the lives of Saints, or, in- 
deed, to those who have studied the Bible only, and 
«vho read the inspired writing's as really tfUCy remem- 
bering- that the miraculous events there recorded did 
lot cease the moment that the canon of Scripture was 
jlosed, but that such as was the relation between God 
md man, and angels and devils for more than four thou- 
•and years, such it has been imtil this very hour. 

Such, then, are the doctrines and opinions which are 
"Tiplied in what may be termed the miraculous life of 
^ atholic Saints, and of which the history of Frances 
« i' Rome pi'esents one of the most remarkable examples. 
J hey are here but brief!}' sketched : but I trust that 
euoug-h has been said to indicate the g-eneral character 
of the principles involved in these wonderful histories ; 
and I now pass on to offer a few remarks on the self- 
contri,dictions into which those })ersons fall who refuse 
to inrestig-ate this species of subject on the ordinary 
ndv:s i»f historical evidence. 

I need hardly remind the reader that an immense 
nun^b T of pei-sons, both infidels and Protestants, espe- 
cially n sober-minded Eng-land and Scotland, treat 
every jrofessed Catholic miracle as a portion of the 
«ftst f ^ntic system of deliberate fraud and villanj 



XXXVl INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

«viiicii tljey conceive to be the very life of Catholicism. 
From the Pope to the humblest priest who says Mass 
and hears confessions in an ug-ly little chapel in tho 
shabbiest street of a coimtry town, all are regarded as 
leagued in one wide-apreading- imposture. Pius IX., 
for instance, it is imagined, knows the liquefaction of 
St. Januarius's blood to be a trick of the Neapolitan 
clergy j but he keeps up the falsehood for the sake of 
g-ain and power. In like manner, he has an extensive 
Roman laboratory ever at work for the manufactm^e of 
all the instruments of delusion which his emissaries pro- 
pagate throughout Christendom. There he makes false 
relics, from portions of the true cross downwards- there 
he sells pardons and indulgences 5 and there he has a 
corps of writei's emploj^ed in the invention of fictitious 
miraculous tales, saints' lives, and the like. All over 
the world he has " agents" for the sale of these goods, 
the Catholic Bishops in England being his " English 
Correspondents," who doubtless receive a handsome per 
centag'e on the profits realised. The staff of underlings 
is also complete, energetic, and well paid. Thus, the 
Oratorian Fathers are busily employed in scattering 
" Saints' Lives" throughout this country'-, greatly to 
their own profit. Thus, too, I am myself engaged in a 
similar work, either laughing in my sleeve at the cre- 
dulity on which I practise, or submitting from sheei 
intellectual incompetence to be the tool of some wily 
Jesuit who enjoins the unhallowed task. Such, when 
drawn out into details, and stripped of the pompous de- 
clamation of the platform, is, in serious truth, the idea 
which innumerable persons imagine to be the Catholic 
lystem of propagandism and deceit; and every Catholic 



MIRACULOUS LIFi: OF THE SAINTS. XXXVfi 

mii'acle is thus accounted for by tlie supposed wicked 
ness of all Catholics, except a few blinded ignorant 
devotees. ' 

Any argTiment, therefore, addressed to prejudg" 
ments of this class must merg-e in the general arg'ument, 
which shows that, whether the Cathohc religion be true 
or false, it is beyond the limits of credibility that its 
ruling' principle can be one of intentional deception. I 
insist, then, that it would not merely be a miracle, — it 
is an impossihiUfy that such an imposture should re- 
main undetected to this day, and that men and women 
of all ranks, ages, and countries, the ablest and the most 
simple, including- uncounted fatliers and mothers of fa 
milies, should persist in submitting- to and upholding 
the authority of a few thousand priests, who are really 
no better than incarnate devils. Whether the Catholic 
system be an error or not, it must have fallen to pieces 
a hundred times over, if its chief iiiler and his subordi- 
nates were mere tricksters, playing upon the credulity 
of a fanatical and besotted world. By this same test, 
then, its miraculous histories must be judged, like the 
general characters of its supporters. They who pro- 
pagate these stories beheve them to be true. They 
do not, of course, assert that evei'y supernatural story is 
what it professes to be. They may even admit that 
many are the mere creations of well-meaning but ill- 
informed report. ]\or is every Catholic priest, monk, 
or layman to be accounted a sincere and honest man. 
There are betrayers of their Lord, fi-om Judas Iscariot 
to the last wretched apostates, who remain for years in 
the Church, deceiving others without deceiving them' 
selves. But on the whole, and viewed as a body, the 



XXXVIU INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

Catliolic Clmrcli is as honest and truthful, when shn 
asserts that many wonderful miracles are incessantly 
taking' place within her, as the most scrupulous of mo- 
ralists can desire. 

" But she is herself deceived," exclaims the more 
candid separatist or sceptic, taking* up the argument 
declined by his scoffing- brother. Catholics, it is sup- 
[)osed, are under the dominion of so abject a superstition, 
that the moment the subject of their religion is intro- 
duced, they cease to exert their ordinary common sense 
and powers of criticism, and believe any thing' and every 
thing that seems to be marvellous. Granting* them to 
be sincere, the charitable Protestant is of opinion that 
they are intellectually incapable of testing* the preten- 
sions of these wonders to be real and true miracles. If^ 
in plain words. Catholics are not knaves, they must he 
fools. JNow, let me ask any candid person who thua 
accounts for our belief in modern miracles, to furnish 
me with an intelligible answer on two points. First, 
let him explain how it comes to pass that an innumer- 
able multitude of persons, many 0/ them distinguished 
for the highest intellectual powers, and proving* by their 
lives and their deaths that they are ready to make every 
sacrifice for the sake of religion, sho'.'dd suffer them- 
selves to be imposed upon in so momentous a subject, 
should willingly accept as true a series of absurd fabri- 
cations, whose falsehood they might detect by the ex 
ercise of any ordinary acuteness, and should risk their 
reputation with the world by professing to believe these 
fictions. If we are sincere in our faith, it is impossible 
to suppose us so willing to be imposed upon. The hoi 
\cyness of these supernatural pretensions must hav« 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINT3. XXXIX 

betrayed itself to some amongst us. The bubble must 
have burst somewhere. If not at Rome, where Protest- 
ants imagine Catholic intellect to be at its lowest ebb, 
at least in Engiand, or France, or Belg'iiim, or Ger- 
many, some of our g-reat Catholic philosophers, histo- 
n.ins, politicians, and men of science, must have unveiled 
^•he tnitli.* 

And, secondly, I desire to be told who are the de- 
ceivers. If our numerous miracles are all eiTors, there 
hxust be gToss dece})tion in a host of instances some- 
where. Where is it, then ? I ask ; which are the dupes, 
and which the rog-ues? Do the clergy cheat the laity? 
Or do the laity (who have quite as mucli to do with 
these miracles) cheat the clergy? Do the Jesuits en- 
trap the Pope? Or does the Pope mystify tlie Jesuits? 
When missionaries shed their blood in hundreds in hea- 
then lands, are we to believe that they are the fabr* 
cators of the wonderful tales which they have been in 
the habit of sending* home to Christendom? Or did 
they leave Eui-ope with the intention of becoming- mar- 

* It is a remarkable fact, that the most celebrated work on 
the supernatural gifts accorded by God to Christians, is the 
production of one of the greatest intellects, and by fur the 
most influential political writer, that modern Europe has seen. 
Gorres, the author of the Christliche Mystik, was the Wel- 
lington of literature during the last European war. The influ- 
ence which he exercised over the whole German mind by his 
Rhenish Meicury is alto?jether without parallel in the history 
of journalism. It was, indeed, regarded as so formidable by 
Napoleon himself, that he styled Gorres a fourth continental 
power. Yet this first of publicists devoted his whole life to the 
investigation of the wonders of Catholic mysticism, and believed 
«itb undoubting couviction in their reality. 



si INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 

tyrs, without troubling- themselves to ascertain whethei 
they were not the dupes of delusions already surround- 
ing- them in a Christian land ? Again I say, if Catholic 
miracles are all false, there must be boundless trickery 
somewhere, and I demand to know where it is. In an 
Eng-lish court of justice a charg-e of conspiracy cannot 
be entertained unless the accuser can point out certain 
parties on whom to fasten his charg-e. Judg*e and jury 
would laugh at a plaintiff who came into court crying 
out that he was victimised by some invisible, inde- 
scribable, and unknown, but yet very numerous band of 
foes. So it is with this popular theory about Catholic 
miracles. We are told that we are deceived. We are 
all cheated together. The bishops are victims j the 
priests are victims \ monks and nuns are victims -, the 
laity are victims ; the old Catholics in England are vic- 
tims J the converts are victims j the best of us all are 
dctims; the most learned, the most pious, the most 
able, the most self-denying, — all these are dupes. If 
there are deceivers, they are the few, the ignorant, the 
cunning, and the vile. The Roman Cisurch, as a Church, 
is supposed to be under the dominion of a band of con- 
spirators, who have blinded her eyes without her having 
found it out, and who are now using* her for their own 
godless piu-poses. Does not such a supposition confute 
itself? Is it worth admitting-, even as an hypothesis? 
Would such a statement be endured for a moment by a 
judge and twelve men in a jury-box ? I say, therefore, 
before moving a step to overthrow the Protestant accu- 
sation, " Make a distinct and intelligible charge of cer- 
tain definite crimes against certain definite individuals. 
When that is done, the proof still remains with jou. 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. xL 

Show us botli wlio are the deceivers, and how thev de- 
ceive us ; or admit that there is no credulity so open- 
moutlied as that of Protestants when tliej attack Ca- 
fcholics ; no superstition so base as that which worships 
this visible order of nature as an eternal rule which not 
even God Himself can ever inteiTupt." 

The fact is, however, that no Protestant ever at- 
tempts any thing* like a profound investig-ation of the 
Catholic mii'acles. A calm, critical, and judicial inquiry 
into the worth of the Roman process of canonisation 
has never been risked. Here is an enormous catalogue 
of incidents, whose supernatural character is vouched 
for by the decrees of a long* series of Popes, professedly 
based upon the most prolonged and anxious legal exa- 
mination. For centuries a tribunal has been declaring 
that one series of miracles after another has come before 
it; that it has weig-hed them all with the utmost cai-e; 
thnt it has hoard every thins* tliat could be urpfed a^'oinst 
them ; that it has rejected, as not proved, a very larg-e 
number ; and that, after the most searching- inquiry, it 
has found such and such supernatural incidents to be 
established by every law of human evidence.* No man 
can look at the processes of tlie canonisation of Catliolic 
Saints without admitting- that very i&N of those secular 
events which we unhesitating-ly believe are supported 
by so ovei-whelming- a weig'ht of proof. Men's fortimea 
and lives are incessantly taken away by law at our very 
doors on lower degTees of evidence, and no one exclaims. 
And yet the decisions of this Catholic tribunal are set 

* For the steps followed in the processes of ca^innisation, see 
Faber's Essay on Beatification, Canonisation, and tlie Proccaxen 
9f the Congregxtion of Rites, 



Xm INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

aside without hesitation. People think them not evG» 
worthy of listening* to. The whole affair they count a 
childish trifling 5 and with a shrug or a sneer they pass 
it hy. 

And it is the same with those miracles which have 
not heen hroug-ht hefore any such hig-h tribunal, but 
which rest on undeniable private evidence. Those who 
are not Catholics put them aside simply as incredible. 
They assume that they cannot be true, and therefore 
that they are not true. Press them in argument, and 
they will shirk your most stringent proofs. You can 
make no impression upon their wills. They will be- 
lieve any thing but that God has interrupted the course 
of nature in favour of any one but themselves. In 
short, if we wish to see human reason in its most uTa- 
tional mood, we have but to enter into conversation 
with a Protestant who asserts and thinks that he be 
lieves the Bible miracles to be true, and urge upon him 
the proofs of such modern miracles as are recorded of 
St. Frances of Rome. You will perceive first, that though 
he has made up his mind on the subject with unhesitat- 
ing dogmatism, he has never investigated its bearings 
or facts, even in outline. Nevertheless, to your surprise, 
you will find him perfectly ready to start some random 
theory, at a moment's notice, unconscious of the mo- 
mentous, the awful nature of the matter he is handling. 
You see, perhaps, that his mind is powerMly influenced 
by the singular character of many Catholic miracles. 
He thinks them strange, unnecessary, unaccountable, 
absurd, disgusting, degrading. His nervous sensibi- 
lities are shocked by an account of the fearful pangs 
accompanying the stigmata. In the phenomena of 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. Xxlil 

ecstasy he can see notliing more tlian the ravings of 
dehrium, or (if lie beHeves in mesmerism) than the tales 
of a clairvoyante, and the rigidity of catalepsy. His 
physical frame, accustomed to its routine of breakfast, 
hmcheon, and dinner, its sofas and easy-chairs, and its 
luxurious bed, shudders at the thought of the self-in- 
flicted penances of the Saints, and at the idea of God's 
bestowing a miraculous power of enduring such horrors. 
He would be as much surprised to be told that Smith- 
field was literally the abode of incarnate demons, as to 
hear that demons have often assumed the shapes of 
})easts and monsters in their conflicts with the elect. 
The notion that an angel might visibly appear to a 
pious traveller on the Great Western or Birmingham 
railroad, and protect him from death in a frightful col- 
lision of trains, makes him open his eyes and contem- 
plate you as scarcely sane to hint at such a thing. 
That " the Virgin," as he calls her, should come down 
from lieaven and enter a church or a room, and hold a 
conversation with living men, women, or children in the 
nineteenth century, and give them a trumpery medal, 
or tell them to wear a piece of cloth round their neck, 
or cure them of some disease, he regards about as likely 
and rational as that the stories in the Arabian K'ujhts 
and the Fah'y Tah.^ should turn out to be true his- 
tories. Be as serious as you please, he simply laughs 
in his sleeve, thinking to himself, " Well who would 
have believed that the intellect of an educated English- 
man should submit itself to such drivelling as this r"' 

Perceiving* that this is the state of his Kiind, you 
open the Bible, which lies, handsomely bound, upon his 
table, and lunning rapidly through the four Gospels 



rllV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

and tlie Acts of the x\.postles, point out to liim a long 
series of supernatural events there recorded j and show 
him that in their nature they are precisely the same as 
those modern miracles which provoke his disg'ust or 
contempt. You remind him, first of all, tliat our Lord 
Jesus Christ is the Head of the Church, and that all His 
people are made like Sim, in His life and His sufferings, 
as well as in His glc?ry ; and then proceed to your sum- 
mary. He accounts the penances of Saints needless 
and impossible ; you remind him of oiu' blessed Lord's 
fast of forty days and forty nig'hts. He is horror- 
struck at the details of the sufferings of those in whom 
the Passion of Christ has been visibly renewed j you 
beg him to attempt to realise the bloody sweat in the 
Garden of Olives. He speaks of mesmerism and clair- 
voyance, and derides the thought of a Saint's being 
illuminated with radiant light, or exhaling a fragrant 
odour ', you ask him how he explains away the trans- 
figuration of Jesus. He says that it is physically im- 
possible that a man's body can be (as he expresses it) 
in two places at once ; you desire him to say by what 
law of nature our Lord entered the room where the dis- 
ciples were when the doors were shut j how St. Peter 
was delivered from chains and imprisonment by the 
angel ; how St. Paul was rapt into the third heaven, 
wlietlier in the body or out of the hody, he could iiot 
tell. He says that when a Saint has thought himself 
attacked by devils in hideous shapes, his brain has been 
diseased^ you entreat him to beware of throwing- a doubt 
on the temptation of Jesus Christ by Satan ia the wil- 
derness. Me pities you for believing that the Mother of 
GcmI has appeared for such needless purposes to excited 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAIXTS. xlf 

ierotees ; you ask him why the Son of God appeared 
.ong after His death and ascension to St. Paul, and told 
him what he mig-iit have learnt in a natural way from 
Tihe other Apostles. He calls your miraculous relics 
childish trumpery ; you ask whether the handkerchiefs 
and aprons whicli cured the sick, after having* touched 
St. Paul's hody, were trumpery also; and whether St. 
Luke is countenancmg- superstition when he relates how 
the people crowded near St. Peter to be healed b}- liis 
very shadow passing* over them. Then, us he feels the 
overwhelming- force of your rebukes, he insinuates that 
there is something- divine, something- evidently touch 
ing-, pure, and strict in morality in the Bible narratives, 
which is wantmg- in these lives of Catholic Saints ; and 
you refer him to such biographies as that of St. Frances 
of Rome, and compelling- him to read the narratives of 
her revelations, ask him if all that she says wlien in a 
state ol ecstasy does not wear, even in his judg-ment, 
the imj)ress of a Divine origin, and seem to be dictated 
by the God of all purity, humility, and love. 

At lengtli yom* opponent, after brief pondering, 
changes his gTound, and asserts that you are yourself 
deceived; that the real defect in Catholic miraculous 
stories is t!ie want of evidence. He tells you that he 
wouhl believe, if he could; but that you have not 
proved your point. You next call his attention to the 
distinct promise made by our blessed Loid to the 
Church, that miracles should always continue with 
her ; and ask him how, on his theory, he accounts for 
the non-fulfilment of this promise. You desire liim to 
lay his finge]- on the epoch when it3 fulfilment ceased ; 
ftnd not only to assert that it then ceased, but to prova 



Jclvi INTRODUCTORY flSSAT. 

his assertion. He says notliing*, for lie has nothing" to 
say which he can even attempt to prove ; and you pro- 
ceed to furnish a few examples of miracles, from patris- 
tic, mediaeval, or modern times, or perhaps of the pre- 
sent day, which are supported hy at least as cogent an 
amount of evidence as the historical proof of the Scrip- 
ture miracles. You insist upon his disproving these. 
He cannot. He resorts to some new hypothesis. He 
says that there is deception soviewhere, thoug-h he can- 
not tell where; and prohahly by this time is showing' 
symptoms of a wish to end the discussion. You urge 
him ag-ain, and press him to give an intelligible reason 
for supposing that there mrtist be deception any where. 
He thinks a while ; and when at length you are looking 
for a rational conclusion, he stai-ts backwards to his old 
assumption that. the Catholic miracles cannot be true. 
He begs the whole question, and says that they are in 
favour of Catholicism, and that Catliolicism is false. 
You too recur to your old reference to the Bible, and 
so on. And thus you run again the same round : and 
you may run it a thousand times over, till you perceive 
that there is but one ^eason why your opponent is not 
convinced; which is, that he 'Will not be convinced. 
And thus it was in the days when those very miracles 
were wrought which Protestants profess to believe. 
The Jews would not believe our Lord's words and doc- 
trines. He then bade them believe Him because of 
His miracles ; and they instantly imputed them to the 
power of the devil. He showed them that this theory 
was impossible; but, so far from being convinced and 
converted, they went their ways, and plotted His death. 
Now, our controversialists cannot, or do not wish, to 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. xlvii 

take away our lives ; but when not a word is left them 
in tlie way of argaiment, they g'o then' ways, and pro- 
test to their fellows, that we are obstinate, unfair, su- 
perstitious, and insolent; and too often eneourag^e one 
anotlier in the bitterest persecution of those who are 
oonvinced by our reasonings, and submit to the Church. 

I now turn to the objections which are at times felt 
by Catholics themselves to the publication of Saints* 
Lives, abounding in supernatural incidents. Such per- 
sons are, indeed, not numerous ; and their number is 
rapidly diminishing-. Still it can scarcely be doubted 
that conscientious Catholics are to be found who take 
the view I am speaking of, from ideas which, though 
erroneous (as T believe), are yet so truly founded in sin- 
cerity, as to demand respect and explanation from those 
who differ from them. 

The objections they raise are twofold. First, th«y 
allege that such books scandalise Protestants and drive 
them from the Church ; and secondly, they do not see 
Jiom incidents, wholl}' unlike our ordinary daily ex- 
perience, can pi-actically serve us in our private Chris- 
tian lives. 

To the idea that non-Catholics are thus needlessly 
prejudiced against the faith, I ref)ly, that this asseilion 
is wholly unproved. That they do, as a matter of tact, 
laugh and attack such biographies, I fulW admit; but 
tliey laugh at them on grounds which we cannot admit 
without giving up the Christian revelation itself. They 
Bcoff at them, not because they think them not sup- 
ported by credible testimony, but because the}' are not 
what tney call dipTiified, refined, and just such as they 



llviil INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

fihoiild liave supposed all things to be that come fi'om 
God. That such a temper of mind is indicative of pure 
Deism, it needs no words to prove. A man who derides 
a miraculous event merely as trifling, thereby asserts 
that he himself is the jndg'e of what is great and what 
is little in the sight of God. He lays down laws for 
tlie guidance of the Almighty. He is adopting tli-e 
identical reasoning- of professed infidels, who on this 
very ground reject Cluistianity itself. And it is ob- 
vious that nothing can be more perilous than the en- 
couragement of so fatal a principle of judgment. Once 
let the acute and logical Protestant perceive that you 
move one step backwards in deference to this objection, 
and he will press you with fresh consequences of the 
very same admission until he lands you in undisguised 
scepticism, if not in the blackest Atheism, 

Can any single instance, in fact, be named in which 
a mind that was apparently determined to seek salva- 
tion at all costs, has been actually deterred from enter- 
ing the Catholic Church by meeting- with tliese extra- 
ordinary histories ? Are they not a butt for determined 
and obstinate Protestants, and for such Protestants 
only ? Ask any convert whether, on looking back, he 
can say that the knowledge of these peculiarities in 
Catholic hagiology ever practically lield him back for 
four-and-twenty hours in his journey towards the 
Church. That the world is angry, and that the world 
vents its spleen and its contempt in bitter jests, is true 
enough ; but pioiis souls are not made to sin, or Itcpt 
away from their Savioicr, by any thing' of the kind. 
And tiiat the rao'e and mockino- of man afford not the 
slightest reason for inducing the Church to tiun cat of 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. xLx 

Hei natural path, I shall not dishonour my readers bj 
attempting to piove to them. 

That it is her natural course to make these histories 
public, for the practical edification of her childi*en, is 
clear from one fact alone, — they are precisely pai-allel 
to the life of our blessed Lord, as narrated in the four 
Gospels. The whole question resolves itself into this : 
If such lives as that of St. Frances, and many others 
recently i)ublished in Eng-land, are not edifying- to the 
ordinary Christian, then the life of Jesus Clu-ist is not 
edifying*. The Gosj)els, as well as the Acts of the Apos- 
tles and the Epistles, must be rigorously exprn-gated 
and cut down to the type of the common domestic life 
of tlic present day. Nothing can be further removed 
from the circumstances of most men than the records 
of our Lord's miracles and supernatural acts in general. 
What has the temptation, the transfigiuation, the driv- 
ing the devils into the swine, the turning the water inte 
wine at what we should now call a "wedding-breakfast," 
and, in fact, almost every act in our blessed Lord's life, 
in common with our amusement, our business, our so- 
ciety, our whole experience ? Yet, to say that a devout 
sold can meditate on these transcendently mysteriouu 
events, and not derive from tliem pvactical instructioa 
to enable her to fulfil her little trivial eartlily duties 
witliCliristian pprftction, is nothing short of blasphemv. 
The Son of God incaj-nate, all glovous, all awful, all 
imfathomable as He was even in the days of His sojourn- 
ing on eai-tli, was yet our example, our model, our em- 
bodied series of precepts. The eye of the simplest i-e- 
j^<^nerate ciiild cannot be turned for an instant upon H'if 
Divine glories and uieffal>le sufferings without drawing 



1 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

liglit therefrom to ^lide it even in its play with its 
fellows^ or in the most trivial of the duties towards its 
parents and teachers. 

And such, I am convinced, is the experience of Catho- 
lics of all ranks, of every age and every degree of intel- 
lectual cultivation, who study religiously the miraculous 
lives of the Saints, believing them to be, on the whole, 
correct histories. It is not needful that they should re- 
gard them to be literally trae in all theu' details, as the 
Bible is true. We have but to rega];d them as we regard 
other authentic human narratives, with the addition of 
that veneration and confidence which is due to such 
portions of them as have been formally sanctioned by 
the Church, to derive from them unceasing spuitual 
comfort and instruction. Doubtless, if we are so igno- 
rant as to fancy that all Saints' histories are to be alike 
in details, and that therefore we ought to wish that the 
circumstances of our lives were the same as theu*s, we 
shall be doing ourselves great mischief. But let us 
study them with a true knowledge of the mere elements 
of the Christian faith, and they will be to us w^hat St. 
Paul desires his disciples to seek for in his lif?3, namely, 
a continuation, as it were, of the life of Jesus Christ, 
carried on throug-h all the successive ages of His Church 
on earth. They will impress upon our minds with an 
intensity peculiarly their own, the reality of the in- 
visible world and the ensnaring tendencies of every 
thing that we possess. Weak aad ignorant as is the 
imao'inative and censitive portion of our natm-e, it needs 
every possible help that it can find to coimteract the 
paralysing* efiects of the worldliness of the world, of 
Jie lukewarmness of Christians; and of the enthialliiig 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. Ij 

nature of the universe of sig'lit and sense. Our courag'e 
IS wonderfully strengthened, and our love for thing's 
invisihle is inflamed, by every thing* that forces us, as 
it were, to see that tliis visible creation is not the only 
thino- that is real, miohtv. and oresent. The "-eneral 
precepts and the dogmatic statements of religion acquire 
a singular and living* force when we perceive tliem 
carried out and realised in the. actual affairs of life in a 
deg'ree to which our personal experience is a stiang'er. 
Influenced as human nature is by exam{)le, these un- 
pretending- narratives, whose whole strength lies in the 
facts which they record, and not in the art of the bio- 
grapher, undeniably strike the mind with an almost 
supernatuml force. They enchain the attention ; they 
compel us to say, Are these things true I Are these 
things possible ? Is religion, after all, so terribl}' near 
to us? Are this life and this world so literally vain 
Bnd worthless, so absolaitely rothing worth t Are suf- 
fering and awful bodily anguish blessings to be really 
coveted ? Are the maxims which I daily hear around 
me so hopelessly bad and accui-sed I Are angels and 
devils so near, so very near, to us all J* Is j)urgatory 
80 terrible and so inevitable to all but the perfect, that 
these fearful visions of its pains are in substance what 
I myself shall endure ? And if I fall from grace and 
die in sin before one of the innumerable temptations 
that hourly beset me, is it true that nothing less than 
an eternity of such torments, the very reading of which 
even thus represented makes me shudder with horror, 
will be my inccitahle lot ? And is the bliss of the 
Saints and the joy of loving God so inexpressibly sweet 
to any souls here on eai-th l Is it possible that anj 



til INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

one should escape from a state of coldness, deadives.i!^ 
world] iness, and unwilling- performance of his religious 
duties, and positively come to lose all taste for bodily 
and mere intellectual pleasm-es tlirougii tlie absorbing 
of his whole being- into the love of Jesus and of Mary, 
and throug'li a burning- thirst for the beatific vision of 
the Eternal Trinity ? 

And who will venture to say that it is not good /^?' 
^^<? all to have such thoughts frequently pressed upon 
our attention ? If there is any meaning* in tli-e command 
that we are to aim at being perfect, whatever be the 
state of life in which we are called to seek perfection, 
sureh^ it is no ordinary advantage thus to have the 
essentially s^»;pernatural character of our religious life 
forced again and again upon our attention. For, be it 
never forgotten, this very snpernuUiralness is one of its 
essential featm-es. There a.re inmimerable varieties in 
our vocations. The earthly circumstances in which we 
are to serve God are almost innumerable in their variety; 
but the supernatural element appertains to them all 
alike. Our actual relationship to tlie awfid and glorious 
realities of the unseen world is precisely the same in 
kind as that of the most miraculous^ endowed Saints. 
The only difference is this, that in their case that re- 
Icilionship was perceived and visibly manifested in a 
peculiar mode, to which we are strangers. Heaven, 
purgatory, and hell are as near to us as if "we beheld 
the visions of St. Frances. The cross is as hterally our 
portion, in its essential nature, as if the five sacred 
wounds were renewed physically in our agonising frame. 
Our angel-guardian is as incessantly by our side, as ^'f 
our eyes were opened to behold his efiiilgent raditJice. 



MIRACULOUS LIFE OF THE SAINTS. lui 

Satan strikes tlie same blows at our souls, wlie;k' he 
shows himself to our sig-lit or not. The relies ofS? nts, 
which we careiully look at or criticise, wai/ be at any 
moment the veliicles of the same miraculous powe..s as 
the handkerchiefs from the body of St. Paul. Who 
would say to a blind man, " Forg-et the tangiljle reali- 
ties of this life, because j'ou cannot see them" ? Who 
would not rather say, " Bear constantly in mind what 
is the experience of those who can see, that you ^lay 
practically remember their ceaseless neaniess to /oa" ? 
And just such is the experience of the Saints, ij. whose 
his-tories faith has partly merg-ed into sig-lit, r.nd the 
veil which blinds ovr eyes has been partii^li'/ and at 
certain seasons withdrawn. It tells us, as tew tiling's 
else can tell, of the reahty of the objects of our faith. 

I add a word or two on the question, how far the 
actual conduct of the extraordinnry persons wbose lives 
are Here related is to serve as a model for practical 
imitation by ordinary Christians. To the well-instructed 
Catholic, it would be an impertinence in me to sug-g-est 
that the}' are not in every detail thus to be followed. 
It is the duty of a Christian to follow the rules for daily 
life which it has pleased Almiglity God to lay down 
in the Gospel, and not to imagine that those excep- 
tional cases of conduct to which He has supernaturall 
prompted certain individuals are to be imitated by tlios 
who have only tlie ordinary graces of the Holy Spii-it. 

The g-eneral reader, however, may be reminded th' '^ 
Catholics believe, that as the Creator of tlie universe 
occasionally interrupts the order of the laws of natu/*e, 
so He at times inten-up^s the relative order of the laws 
ni duty J not, of coui-se, the essential laws of morality, but 



Br INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

tnas-* positive laws wliich are oblig'atcry simply because 
tlief.' are enacted by competent allthorit3^ No person, 
indeed, can be justitied in acting en such an idea in his 
own case, unless g;i3ided by supernatural light, beyond 
the usual spiritual illumination given to all Christians. 
This supernatural light is rarely vouchsafed, and it is 
accordingly in the highest degree presumptuous in any 
persoii to overstep the ordinary routine of distinctly 
ordered duty, under the idea that he is called by God 
to break the rules given for the guidance of mankind 
in general. In all such supposed cases, the Catholic 
Church has the proper tests to apply, by which the 
soul can learn whether she is led by a Divine afflatus, 
or beti-ayed by her own disordered imagination, or the 
dec&hs of £2. LLTisible tempiter 

j.M.a 




ST. FRANCES OF BOMfi 



ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 



CHAPTER I. 



n.XSOAL CHARACTER OF THE SAINT'S LIFE — HER CHILDHOOD AHl 
EARLY PIETY. 




^^^ 



HERE have been saints wliose 
histories strike us as particularly 
beautifiil, not only as pos-sessing 



the beauty which always belorgs 
to sanctit}^ whethep exliibited in an 
aged servant of God, who for three- 
score years and more has borae the 
heat and burden of the day, or in 
the youth who has ottered up the 
morning- of his life to His Maker, and 
yielded it into His hands before 
twenty summers have passed over 
his head ; whether in a wan-ior king 
like St. Louis, or a beg^g*ar like Bene- 
dict Labre, or a royal lady like St. 



3 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

Elizabetli of Hungary ; but also as uniting' in llie cir- 
cumstances of their lives, in the places they inha- 
bited, and the epochs when they appeared in the world, 
much that is in itself poetical and interesting-, and cal- 
culated to attract the attention of the historian and the 
man of letters, as well as of the theologinn and the 
devout. In this class of saints may well be included 
Francesca Romana, the foundress of the religious order 
of the Oblates of Tor di Specchi. She was the model 
of young girls, the example of a devout matron, and 
finally a widow, according to the very pattern drawn 
by St. Paul; she was beautiful, coiu-ageous, and full 
01 wisdom, nobly bom, and delicately brought up: 
Rome was the place of her birth, and the scene of her 
labours ; her home was in the centre of the great city, 
in the heart of the Trastevere; her life was full of 
trials and hair-breadth scapes, and strange reverses ; 
her hidden life was marvellous in the extreme : visions 
of teiTor and of beauty followed her all her days*, 
favours such as were never granted to any other saint 
were vouchsafed to her ; the world of spirits was con- 
tinually thrown open to her sight ; and yet, in her daily 
conduct, her character and her ways, minute details of 
which have reached us, there is a simplicity as well as 
a deep humility, awfiil in one so highly gifted, touch- 
mg in one so highly favoured. 

Troubled and wild were the times she lived in ; per- 
haps if one had to point out a period in which a Catho- 
lic Christian would rather not iiave had his lot cast, — 
one in which there was most to try his faith and wound 
his feelings, he would name the end of the fourteentii 
century, and the beginnip.g of the fifteenth. War was 
raging- all over Europe ; Italy was to^-n by inward dis- 
sensions, by the rival factions of the Guelphs and the 
Ghibellines. So savage was the spirit v ith which their 
conflicts were carried on, that barbarism seemed once 
more about to overspread that fair land, and the Church 
itself was afflicted not only by the outward persecutions 
which strengthen its vitality, though for a while they 



CH. T.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 3 

may appear to cripple its action, but by trials of a far 
deeper and more })ainlul nature. Heresy bad torn from 
her arms a g-reat number of lier children, and repeated 
schisms were dividing- those who, in ap[)earance and 
even in intention, remained faithlid to the Holy See. 
The successors of St. Peter had removed the seat ot 
their residence to Avig-non, and the Eternal City pre- 
sented the aspect of one vast battle-field, on which 
daily and hoin-ly conflicts were occurring-. The Colon- 
nas, the Orsinis, the Savellis, were every instant en- 
fi-ag-ed in strug-g-les which delug-ed the streets with 
blood, and cut otf mauA' of her citizens in the flower of 
their ag-e : strang-ers were also continually invading- tiie 
heritage of'tlie Church, and desecrated Rome with mas- 
sacres and outrages scarcely less deplorable than those 
of the Huns and the Vandals. In the capital of the 
Christian w(M-ld, ruins of recent date lay side by side 
with the relics of ]){»st ages ; the churches were sacked, 
burned, and desti-oyed ; the solitary and indestructil)le 
basilicas stood almost alone, mom-nfully erect amidst 
these scenes of carnage and g-loom ; and the eyes of the 
people of Rome were wistfully directed towards that 
tutelar}^ power, which Ims ever been to them a j)ledg'<? 
of pros])erity and peace, and whose removal the sig-nal 
of war and of misery 

It was at that time, during- the Pontificate of Urban 
VI., in the year 1384, that Francesca was boin at 
Rome ; that " slie rose as a star in a dark nig-ht," 
accordim*- to the exni-ession of the most ancient of ker 
biographers. Her father's name was Paul Bussa ; her 
motlier's Jacobella de' Roffredeschi ; thev were ])oth of 
noble and even illustrious descent, and closely allied to 
the Oi-sinis, the Savellis, and the Mellinis. On the day 
of her birth she was carried to the church of Santa 
AgTiese, in the Piazza P"<avona, and there baptised. 
Little could the worshippei-s who may have been ])i*ay- 
ing there that day for a blessing* on tlieir bereaved and 
distracted city, have giiessed in what form that blessing 
was bestow(;d. and that that Httle babe, a few hours 



4 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

old, was to prove a most powerful instrument in thfl 
hands of God for the extinction of schism, the revival 
of piety, and the return of peace. 

From her infancy, Francesca was not like other 
children. Her mother, when she held her in her arms 
or hushed her to sleep on her knee, had always an in- 
voluntary feeling- of reverence for her little daug-liter ; it 
«ras as if an ang-el of God, not an earthly child, had 
Deen lent her; a heavenly expression shone in her 
eyes, and the ca,lni serenity of her infant features struck 
all who approached her with admiration. Francesca 
learned to read at the same time that she beg-an to 
speak; the first words she was taug'ht to utter were 
the sacred names of Jesus and Mary ; at her mother's 
knee she lisped the Little Office of the Blessed Yirg-in, 
and during the whole com*se of her life she never 
omitted tliat practice. 

At two or three years old she had the sense and 
intelligence of a grown-up person; an extraordinary 
piety revealed itself in all her words and actions. She 
never played like other children; but when left to her- 
self would often retire into silent corners of her father's 
palace, and kneeling down, join her little hands in 
prayer ; and lifting up her infant heart to God, would 
read a devout book, or repeat hymns to the Blessed 
Virgin, her own dear mother as she used to call her. 
Silence appeared to be the delight of this yoimg child — 
the deepest reserve and modesty an instinct with her. 
At the -age of six years the practices of the saints were 
already familiar to her. She had left off eating meat, 
eg'gs, or sweets of any description, and lived on plainly 
boiled vegetables and bread. The necessity of eating 
at all seemed irksome to her, and she never drank any 
thing but pure water. Then also had begun her un- 
wearied study of the lives of holy women, and especially 
of the virgin martyrs who have shed their blood for the 
love of Jesus Christ. The Sacrament of Confirmation, 
which she received at that time in the church of Santa 
Agnese, the same in which she had been baptised, filled 



CH. I.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 6 

Iier with ardour to show her love for her Lord bje^ery 
imag'inable means, even those the most painful to the 
flesh. 

Her motlier was a very devout person, and in the 
habit of visiting* every day some of the churches, especi- 
ally those where indulg'ences were to be g'ained, and she 
also frequented the stations with affectionate assiduity. 
For in that troubled epoch, as in the earliest times of 
the Church, as now, as always, on certain days, in cer- 
tain places, the relics of apostles, of martyrs, and of 
confessors were exhibited to the faithfid, often on the 
very spot where they had finished their course with 
joy, having- kept their faith and won tlieir crown. 
The devotion of " tlie stations," as it is performed in 
Rome, is one of the most touching- links with the past 
that it is possible to conceive. To pass along- the 
street, so often trod by holy feet in former and in latter 
days, and seek the church appointed for tliat day's sta- 
tion; to approacli some time-worn basilica, or ancient 
sanctuary, will tout the city walls may be, and pausinii^ 
on tlie thresliold, ^-ive one look at the glorious works of 
Almig'lity God in the natural v.'orhl, — at tlie wide Cam- 
pag-na, that land-sea, so beautiful in its broad expanse 
and its desolate grandeur, at the purj)le lulls witli their 
g-olden liglits and their deep-blue shadows, and the 
arched sky telling- so vividly the glory of its Maker ; 
and then slowl}^ lifting- the heavy curtain that stands 
between that vision of earthly beauty, and the shrine 
where countless g-enerations have come to worship,— to 
tread imder feet the g-re«en bc»ug-hs, t'le sweet-smellinc- 
leaves, the scattered flowers, that morning- strewn upon 
the uneven, time-trod, time-honoured pavement ; bow- 
ing- in adoration before the Lord in His tabernacle, to 
thank Him for the wonders that He lias worked in Plis 
saints,— for the beauty of the world of g-race, of which 
that of the visible world is but the type and the sha- 
dow; and then move from one shrine to the other, 
wherever the lig-lits upon the altars point the way, and 
invoke the assistance, the prayers of the saints whose 



5 5T. FRANCES OF ROME. 

relics ore there displayed; — all tliis is one of those rai6 
eiijovnients wliicli at once feed tlie sonl and awake tlie 
inia^inatioii, and wliicli tlie devout Cinistian can find 
in no place Ijut Rome. 

It was these ^^ stations" that Francesca's mother 
fi-equentedj and took lier little daiig-hter v.'ith lie]*. 
Sometimes she went to some church in the heart oi 
the city ; sometimes to some lonely shrine without the 
walls. Then, as now, the beg-gars (so we find it men- 
tioned later in the life of the Saint) congreg-ated at the 
doors, and clamom^ed for alms. Then, as now, the 
lig-lits burned upon the altars, and the sweet smell of 
frag-rant and crushed leaves perfumed the air. Dming* 
sermons the little girl's attention never wandered ; and 
on her return home she was wont to repeat what she 
had heard with unction and delight. 

Her mother's favourite church v/as that of Santa 
Maria Nuova : in our day more fi-equenth" called that 
of San Francesca Romana. It stands in the Toro 
Romano, close to the ruins of the ancient Temple of 
Peace. It was served at that time by tlie Benedictine 
monks of Mount Olivet; and to one of them, Don An- 
tonio di Monte Savello, Jacobella de' Rotfi-edeschi 
intrusted the spiritual direction of her daughter. He 
v/as a man of great learning and piety, and continued 
her dii-ector for five and thirty years. Every Wednes- 
day the little maiden came to him for confession. She 
consulted him about her occupations, her religious ex- 
ercises, and her studies, and exactly obeyed his most 
minute directions, even in indifferent thing's. Often she 
tried for his permission to practise greater austerities ; 
and such was lier fervour, and the plain indications of 
God's designs upon her, that he occasionally allowed 
her to perform penances which might have been con- 
sidered in ordinary cases too severe for her tender age; 
At other times he forbade tliemi altogether; and she 
submitted cheerfully to his commands, without a word 
of remonstrance or complaint, and resumed them again 
at his desire, with the equanimity of one who well knew 



CH. I.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 7 

that the spirit of perfect obedience is more acceptable to 
God than any works of devotion. 

" A celestial brightness, a more eternal beauty, 
Shone on hpr face, and encircled her form, when after confes- 
sion 
Homeward serenely she walked, with God's benediction upon 

her. 
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite 
music."* 

Francesca's daily Hfe was as perfect as a child's 
could be. No untrue words sullied her pure lips ; no 
gToss thoug'ht dwelt in her mind. She seldom laug-lied. 
thoug-h a sweet smile was often on her lips. Up to tne 
af^e of eleven, her life was one long continual prayer 
Every little action was performed with a view to the 
g-lor}' of God. iler trifling- fifiling-s she deplored with 
anguish ; every stain on th(i pure mu-ror of her con- 
science was instantly washetl away by tears. It was 
not long* before it pleased God to vouchsafe to her extra- 
ordinary g'races. Hor eRiiy urA almost intuitive ac- 
cpiaintance witli the !r;ysteri<vi of religion was wonder- 
ful. Every day she medittitfd on the lEcarnation and 
the Passion of Jesus Christ; and her devotion to the 
Blessed Virgin increased in T-vonortion to her love for 
our Lord. Her i'-^ce flushed with delig-ht, and a sera- 
phic expression beamed in her eyes, wjjen she spoke, of 
the suflerings of Jesus, and the glories of Mary. From 
the little oratory- where she held secret communion with 
heaven, she went out into the world with the most ar- 
dent desire to serve the poor, tD console the afliicted, to 
do good to all. The afl'ection cf her young- heart found 
vent in numerous works of charit}'; and Francesca's 
name, and Francesca's sweet voice, and Francesca's fair 
face, were even then to niany of the sufl'erers of tljat 
dark epoch a sign of hope,— a ])ledg-e that God was still 
amongst them as of yore, and His Spirit at work in the 
hearts of men. 

* Lotngfellow i Eiangelint. 



ST. FRANCES OF ROME, 



CHAPTER IT 

PHANCESCa's SARLY inclination for the cloister — BY HER FA- 
THER'S DESIRE SHE MARRIES LORENZO PONZIANO — HER MARRIED 
LIFE — HER ILLNESS AND MIRACULOUS CURE. 

From tlie time that Francesca liad imderstood the mean- 
ing" of the words, her greatest desire had been to enter 
a convent; but with that spirit of humiht j and reserve 
which so particidarlj belonged to her, she had kept 
her desire concealed in her heart, and had manifested 
it to none but God and her director. Don Antonio 
encouraged her to persevere in this silence, and to prove 
her own resolution by secretly adhering to the rules, 
and practising the austerities of one of the strictest re- 
ligious orders. She gladly assented to this, and per- 
severed in it for a considerable time. Stronger and 
deeper every day grev/ her inclination to forsake the 
world, and to hold communion with God alone in the 
solitude of the cloister; with that God whose love had 
already diiven from her heart all care for comfort, for 
pleasiu'e, and for self. But not so smooth T\'as to be 
her path through life ; not much longer Vv^as she to sit 
in silence at the feet of her Lord, witli no other thought 
than to live on the words wlhcli fell from His lips. 

Though she concealed as much as possible the 
peculiarities of her mode of life, they could not alto- 
gether escape the notice of her parents; and they soon 
questioned her on the subject. When she informed 
them of her wish to embrace the religious life, her 
father cliose to consider her vocation as a childish fancy 
and informed her in return that he had ah-eady pro 
mised her in marriage to Lorenzo Ponziano, a young 
nobleman of illustrious birth, and not less eminent fo; 
his \irtues and for his talents than from his fortiuie 
and position. He reckoned amongst his ancestors St 



OH. II.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 9 

Paiilianii."^, pope and martyr ; liis motlier was a !Riel- 
lini; and liis eldest brother Pidu'izo had married Van- 
niizza, a daug-hter of the noble house of Santa Croce. 
Francesca's heart sank witliin her at this announcement, 
and fallino- on her knees she implored her fatlier to 
alter his determination, and allow her to follow what 
she believed to be the will of God in her re^-ard. She 
went even so far as to protest that nothing* should in- 
duce her to consent to this marriag"e ; torrents of tears 
fell from her eyes as she poured forth her supplications 
and ui-ged her I'erpiest. But it was all in vain that she 
wei)t and prayed. Paul Bussa turned a deaf ear tr 
her pleading-s; declared that his word was pledged, 
that nothing* should ever ])ersuade him to retract it; 
and he insisted that, as a dutiful daug-hter, she should 
submit herself to his will. Seeing* him thus immovable, 
Fi-ancesca rose from her^ knees, withdrew in silence from 
his presence, and retiring* into her little oratory, pros- 
trated herself before the ciiicifix, and asked counsel of 
Him at whose feet she wished to live and to die ; and 
implored Ilim, if sucli was His g*ood pleasure, to exert 
His Almig-hty Power, and raise obstacles to the pro- 
jected marrlag*e. Then, strengthened by prayer, she 
was inspired to seek direction from him who was the 
organ of the divine will to her, and hurrying* to Santa 
Maria Nuova, she recpiested to see Don Antonio Saveho. 
Ivindly and g'ently the g-ood priest spoke to his 
aiflicted penitent. He promised to consult the Lord for 
lier in ])rayer, and suggested some devotions to be used 
by herself for that purpose. Then, seeing* her countenance 
assume a calmer expression, he endeavoured to ])repare 
lier mind for what he doubtle'^s already knew was the 
will of God, and the ti*ue, thoug-h in one so minded, the 
sing-ular vocation of Francesca. " If your parents per- 
sist in their resolution (he said), take it, my child, as a 
sig*n that God expects of you this sacriiice. Offer up 
to Him in that case your earnest desire for the religious 
life. He will accept the will for the deed; and you will 
obtain at once the rewai'd of that wish, and the pecuiiai 



10 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

graces attached to the sacrament of marriage. God'i 
ways are not as oui' ways, Francesca. When St. Mary 
Magdalene had sent for the Lord Jesus Christ to come 
and heal her brother, it was no doubt a severe trial to her 
that He came not; that the long- hours of the day and 
of the night succeeded each other, and that He tarried 
on the way, and sent no message or token of His love. 
But when her brother rose from the dead, when the 
shroud fell from his Hmbs, and he ^tood before her full 
of life and strength, she understood the myster}'^, and 
adored the divine wisdom of that delay. God indeed 
asks of you your heart, Francesca; but He also claims 
your whole self as an oblation, and therefore your will 
that He may mould it into entire conformity with His 
own. For works may be many and good, my daughter, 
and piety may be fervent, and virtues eminent, and yet 
the smallest leaven of self-love or self-will may ruin the 
whole. Why do you weep, Francesca? That God's 
will is not accomplished, or that yom* own is thwarted? 
Nothing but sin can mar the first, and in this yom' 
trial there is not the least shade of sin. As to your own 
will, bend, break, annihilate it, my child, and take 
courage. Have but one thoug-ht — the good pleasure, 
the sweet will of God ; submit yourself to His Provi- 
dence. Lay down your wishes as an oblation on His 
altar ; give up that highest place which you had jnstly 
coveted ; take the lower one which He now appoints 
vou; and if you cannot be His spouse, be His loving 
and faithful servant." 

Francesca went home, and awaited in silence her 
father's further commands. She was very pale, for the 
strug'gle was a painful one. She prayed night and day, 
watched and fasted. When Paul Bussa renewed his 
injunctions, she gently gave her assent, begged hint to 
forgive her past resistance, and henceforward gave no 
outward signs of the suffering- within, all the greater 
that it came in the form of rejoicing, and that others 
deemed that to be happiness which cost her so many 
secret tears. The family of Poji ziano were oveijoyed 



CH. II.J 9T. FRANCES OF ROME. 11 

at tlie marriage; — the bride was so rich, so beautiful, 
and so virtuous ; there was not a young man in Rome 
wlio did not look witli envy on Lorenzo, and wish him* 
self in his stead. There was no end to the banquets, 
tlie festivities, the merrymaking-?, wliicli took place on 
the occasion; and in the midst of these rejoicina's Fran- 
cesco left her father's palace for that of the Ponziani. 
It stood in the heart of the Trastevere, close to the Yel- 
low River, thoug-h not quite upon it, in- the vicinity of 
the Ponte Rotto, in fv street that runs parallel with the 
Tiber. It is a well-known spot; and on the 0th of 
March, the Festival of St. Francesca, the people of 
Rome and of the neighbourhood Hock to it in crowds. 
The modern building- that has been raised on the foun- 
dation of the old palace is the Casa dei Esercizii Pii, for 
the young- men of the city. There the repentant sinner 
who long-s to break the cliain of sin, tlie youth beset by 
some strong- temptation, one who has heai-<l the inward 
voice summoning- him to higher paths of virtue, another 
who is in doubt as to the particular line of life to 
which he is called, may come, and leave behind them 
for three, or five, or ten days, as it may be, the busy 
\\orld, with all its distractions and its ag-itations, and, 
free for the time being- from temporal cares, the wants 
of the body jnovidcd for, and the mind at rest, may 
commune with God and their own souls. Here they 
listen daily, nay hourly, to the instructions of devout 
priests, who, in the manner ])rescribed by St. Tg-natius, 
l)lace before tliem in turn the most awful truths and 
the most consoling- mysteries of the King-dom of God. 
Resolutions are thus taken, conversions often effected, 
C'ood purposes strengthened in a way which often seems 
little short of miraculous. The means are marvellouslv 
adapted to the end : and though many a wave mav sweep 
over the soul, when it ag-ain returns to t]ie world, a 
mark has been stamped u])on it not easilv effaced. 

Over the Casa dei Esercizii Pii the sweet sjn'rit of 
Fj-ancesca seems still to preside. On the day of her 
festival its i*ooms ai-e tlirown open, every memorial of 



12 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

tlie g'entle saint is exliiljited, lig-lits burn on numerous 
altars, flowers deck tlie ])assag-es, leaves are strewn in 
the cliapel, on tlie stairs, in the entrance-court; g-ay 
carpets, fig'ured tapestry and crimson silks liang- over 
the door, and crowds of people g*o in and out, and kneel 
before the relics or the pictures of the dear saint ol 
Rome, and greet on each altar, and linger in these 
chambers, like kinsfolk met on a birthday to rejoice to- 
g'ether. The well-dressed and the ragged, the rich and 
the poor, without distinction, pay their homag-e to her 
sweet memory whose living- presence once adorned tlie 
spot which they visit. It is a joyous and touching- fes- 
tival, one which awakens tender thoughts, and bring-s 
the world of memorv into close connection with that of 
hope. The mind is forcibly carried back to the day 
when the young* bride of Lorenzo Ponziano entered 
these walls for the first time, in all the sacred beauty of 
holiness and youth — 

" Pure as the virgin snow that dwells 
Upon the mountain's crest, 
Cold as the sheet of ice that lies 
Upon the lake's deep breast." 

Pure from the least taint of worldly vanity, cold to all 
that belong-s to human passion ; but with a heart burning 
with love to God, and overflowing- with charity to every 
creature of His. 

She was received tenderly and joyfully by Lorenzo 
himself, by his father Andrew, his mother Cecilia, and 
Vannozza, the wife of his elder brother. Francesea 
smiled sweetly as she returned their caresses ; but the 
noise, and the o-aietv, and the visithm-, that attended a 
wedding- in those days weig;lied lieavil}^ on her spirits ; 
and though she never complained, Vannozza perceived 
that her little heart was oppressed with some secret 
sorrow, and tenderly inquired into its cause. Francesca 
could not resist the gencle appeal, and disclosed her griei 
to her kind sister. She told her that the world had 
never g-iven her pleasm-e, that her affections were else* 



CH. If.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME IS 

wliere set, tliat slie long-ed to live for God alone, and 
felt sad, in spite of all lier efforts, at tlie tumult and dis- 
sipation which was now her j)oi'tion. " If such are 
your feehng-s, my heloved little sister," exclaimed Van- 
nozza, " m^ aymimthj may serve to console you; for 
neither do I iind any delig-ht in the vanities of the 
world, hut only in prayer and meditation. Let us be 
ft-iends^ J'raneesca ; I will help you to lead the life you 
desire, and tog-ethej we shall ai-rive at the end we have 
in view." 

These kind words filled Francesca's heart with joy ; 
and from tliat day forward there sprung- up a friend- 
ship between these two young- women, which lasted for 
eig-ht-and-thirty years, and was a som-ce of the g-i^atest 
consolation to tliem throng-h all the trials they had to 
encounter, at tlie same time that it edified all those who 
beheld tliat tender affection. 

In her new home Francesca followed the same mode 
of life which she had })ursued in her father's house; but 
her zeal was tempered with so much wisdom and piii- 
dence, that she offended no one, and contrived to win 
the affection of all her relations. Her good sense, her 
sweetness of temper, her earnest piety, charmed them 
all; and they were astonished that so youn<»- a j'irl could 
at once assume the part and fulfil the duties of a de- 
voted wife and a noble matron. Anxious in every way 
to conform herself to Lorenzo's wishes, she received the 
visits of the high-born ladies her equals and companions, 
and returned them with j)unctuality. She submitted 
to appear in ])ublic with all the state which belonged 
to her })osition, and accepted and wore the costly 
dresses and the splendid jewels which her husband 
lavished upon her ; but under those g-org-eous silks and 
rich brocades a hair-shirt was concealed. Always ready 
to comj)ly with any observance which duty oi- propriety 
required, she at the same time steadily abstained even 
from the innocent amusements in which others in- 
dulged; and nevei- danced or played at cards, or sat 
up late at night. 



14 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

Her manner was so g'entle and kind, that it inspired 
atiection in all who approached her j hut there was also 
a iH'ofound and awful purity in her aspect and in her 
denj eanour, which eif'ectuallj checked the utterance of 
a free or licentious word in her presence. •Faithful to 
her early hahits of piety, she continued every Wednes- 
day her visits to Santa Maria Nuovajand after con- 
fessing* to Don Antonio, she vv'ent to communion with 
such fervent devotion, that those who saw her at the 
altar ahsorhed in adoration, foresaw that God would ere 
long- bestow extraordinary gTaces on her soul. Rising- 
betimes in the morning-, Francesca devoutly said her 
prayers, made her meditation, and read attentively out 
of a spuitual book. In the course of the day, when- 
ever she had a moment's leisure unclaimed by an}'- of 
the duties of hei- state, she withdrew into a chui'ch or 
into her own room, and g*ave herself up to prayer. 
Every Saturday she had a conference Vv'itli Fra Micliele, 
a Dominican monk, the prior of San Clemente, and an 
mtimate friend of her father-in-law. He was a learned 
theologian, as well as a man of g-reat piety and virtue, 
and instructed her with care in all the doctrines of 
religion. 

At the same time, so austere and devout a life in a 
young' person of twelve years old could not fail to at- 
tract the attention and draw down the censures of the 
worldly. Many such began to laugh at Francesca, and 
to turn her piety into ridicule. They intruded then' 
advice on Lorenzo Ponziano, and urged him to put a 
stop to what they termed his wife's eccentricities. But 
happily for Francesca, he was not one of those men who 
are easily influenced by the opinion of others. He formed 
his own judgment, and pursued his own line of conduct 
imdisturbed by the comments and animadversions of his 
would-be advisers. His young wife was much too pre- 
cious to him, much too perfect in his sight, her wlsole 
life bore too visibly the stamp of God's dealings with 
her, for him to dream of interfering with tlie course she 
aad taken. On the contrary, he looked upon her witli 



en. II.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 15 

that affectionate veneration which the presence of true 
sanctity always awakens in a noble and religious mind. 
His father and mother were of the same way oi 
thinking-, and all but idolised the holy child v^-ho had 
come among-st them as an angel of peace. They re- 
garded her as the blessing* of their house, and the 
comfort of their old aiie. Paluzzo, Lorenzo's brother, 
delig"hted in encouraging- the intimacy thnt had arisen 
between his 3'oung' sister-in-law and* his own wife A'an- 
nozza. There was not a sing-le member, friend, or ser- 
vant, of that noble family, that did not look with dehg-ht 
upon Francesca. She was the joy of every heart, the 
sweet consoler of every sorrow, the link that bound 
them all by the sacred cord of love. Lay by day lier 
influence — her tender, noiseless, g-entle influence — was 
felt, subduing, winning-, drawing- them all to God. 

Ihe happiness which the family of Ponziano had 
enjoyed since Lorenzo's marriag-e was interrupted by 
the sudden and dang-erous illness of his wile, which 
ba£3ed all medical skill, and soon broug-ht her to the 
vero-e of the g-rave. The affliction of her husband and 
of his whole family was extreme. Their pearl of great 
price seemed about to be taken from them. No reme- 
dies afforded the slightest relief to her sufferings; she 
was unable to rest, or to retain any nourishment ; and 
every day her streng-th declined. The consternation of 
her friends knew no bounds ; her father was inconso- 
lable. He secretly reproached himself w!th the con- 
straint lie had placed on her inclinations, and considered 
her illness as a Divine chastisement. Francesca alone 
remained unmoved amidst the g-eneral affliction. She 
placed her life in the hands of God, and waited the 
event with perfect submission. Unable to speak, or 
even to move, the sweet exuression of her earnest eves 
alone spoke her gratitude to those who nursed her and 
wept over her sufferings. At other times they were 
fixed on the Crucifix with an unutterable look of trust 
and love. Once only she was distm-bed, and indig-na- 
tJon gave her strength to protest against the guilty 



16 BT. FRANCES OF K051E. 

sug'g'estions of some friends of tlie family, who, accord- 
ing- to the notions of that time, persisted in hehevip-g 
that a spell had heen cast upon her, and proposed to 
have recourse to some persons in Rome who dealt, or 
pretended to deal, in magic arts. Francesca dec-hired 
herself ready to die, rather than coimtenance so impiou'^ 
a proceeding'. After all medical resources had betc) 
exirausted, vvhen despair had succeeded to hope, Al- 
mighty God restored her health for a while ; and the 
news of her recovery was hailed with raptm-e within 
and without the palace. 

H(u- sulfering-s, however, returned with double vio- 
lence ; she endured the most excruciating pains ; and was 
ag'ain considered to be at the point of death. During* 
a whole year slie remained as it were on the brink of 
eternity : her soul prepared to take its wing- ; continually 
sustained by the Sacraments of the Church, her only 
remainino" thouo'ht was to soothe the ansruish of her 
liusbnnd -and parents. Once ag'ain, those persons who 
had previously proposed to resort to magic arts for her 
cure, managed to thrust into her room, on some pre- 
tence or other, a woman celebrated in that line. Fran- 
cesco, enlig'htened by a divine inspiration, instantly 
detected the fraud ; and raising- herself in her bed, with 
a voice, the strength of vrhich astonished the by- 
standers, exclaimed, " Begone, thou servant of Satan, 
HOT ever venture to enter these walls ao'ain !" Ex- 
hausted by tlie effort, she fell back faint and colourless; 
and for a moment they feared that her spirit had passed 
away. Cut that very day God was preparing- a miracle 
in her behalf; -and as she had refused to hold any com- 
munication with the Evil One, He was about to send 
His young' servant a heavenly messeng-er, with healtli 
and henlino' on his wino-s. It was the eve of the Fes- 
tival of St. Alexis, — tliat noble Roman penitent, who 
passed so many years at the threshold of his own palace^ 
unpitied, imrecognised by his own relations, who went 
in and out at the gate, and stopped not to question tlie 
silent, lonely, patient beggar, who lay there with his 



CH. II.J ST. FRA.NCES OF ROME. 17 

face bid in a poor cloak^ finding- peace in the midst of 
bitterness. 

The Ponziani liad all withdrawn to rest for a few 
hours; the women who attended on the dyiug- Fran- 
cesca had fallen asleep. She was lying- motionless on 
her couch of pain. Her sufferings had been sharp ; 
they were sharper than ever tliat nigiit. Slie endured 
them in the strength of the Cross, from which neither 
her eyes nor her tlioug-lits wandered. The whole house, 
and a})par('ntly the city also, was wrapt in i^lumlter; for 
not a sound marred the stillness of the hour, — that still- 
ness so trying* to those who watch and suffer. Sud- 
denly on tlie darkness of the silent chamber a liirlil 
broke, briu'lit as the day. In the midst stood a radiant 
fig-ure, m:ij;'stic in form and g-racious in countenance. 
He wore a pilg-rim's robe; but it shone like bm-nished 
g'old. Drawing; near to Francesca's betl, he said : " I 
am Alexis, and am sent fi-om God to inquire of thee if 

;hi)ii choosesl to be healed V^ Twice ho repeated tne 
rrords, and then the dying" one fiiintly murmured, "I 
have no choice but the g-ood pleasure of God. Be it 
done unto me according- to His will. For my own part, 
I would prefer to die, and for my soul to Hy to Him at 
once ; but I accept all at His hands, be it life or be it 
death." "Life, then, it is to be," re})lied St. Alexis; 
" for He chooses that thou shouldest remain in the 
world to g'lorify His name." With these words he 
spread his mantle over Francesca and disappeared, 
leaving- her perfectly recovered. 

Confounded at this extraordinary fiivour, more alive 
to the sense of God's wonderful mercy than to her own 
sudden fi-eedom from pain, Francesca rose in liaste, and 
^••rosTrate on th<" floor, made a silent and fervent tbanks- 

fiving- ; then slipping- out of hei- room without awaking- 
er nurses, she hurried to the bedside of her friend : nr^ 
sister. Putting- her arm round her neck and her cheek 
next to hor's, slie exclaimed, " Vannozza cara ! Vannozza 
mia !" (V,\ dear Vannozza, my own A'annozza.) And 
Uie bev^iidered Vannozza suddenly awoke out of her 

c 



j8 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

sleep, und distrusting' the evidence of her serxses, kep' 
repeating', " Who calls me ? Who are yoii ? Am I 
dreaming'? It sonnds like the voice of my Cecolella."* 
*^ Yes, it is your Cecolella ; it is your little sister who 
is speaking' to you." " My Francesca, whom 1 left an 
^onr ag'o at the point of death ?" " Yes, the very same 
Francesca who now holds you to her breast ; you, you, 
my beloved companion, who day and nig'ht have com- 
forted and consoled me durino- my lono- illness, and who 
must now help me to thank God for His wonderful 
mercy." Then sitting* upon her bed, with her hands 
clasped in her's, she related to her her vision, and the 
•'nstantaneous recovery that had followed it ; and then, 
is the lig'lit was beginning' to break into the chamber, 
she added w^itli eagerness, ^^ Now, now the day is come 
Let us not delay a moment longer, but hasten with me 
io Santa Maria Nuova, and then to the church of St. 
Alexis. I must venerate his relics, and return him my 
thanks, before others learn what God has done for me." 
This pious purpose fulfilled, they returned home, 
where Francesca was looked upon as one risen from the 
dead. The affection she inspired was mingled with awe; 
every one considered her as the special object of the 
Divine mercy, and venerated her accordingly. Not so 
ioyfidly had Lorenzo received her on their bridal-day, 
as when she came to him now, restored to his arms bv 
<"he miraculous interposition of a merciful God. 



CHAPTER ILL 

fraXCEsca proceeds in her mobttficatioxs and works of cha- 
rity HER SUPERNATURAL TEMPTATIONS AND CONSOLATfONS. 

Not in vain had Francesca been brought so near to 
death, and so wonderfidly restored to perfect health. 
A favciir such as she had received could not fail of pro- 

* The Italian diminutive for Francesca. 



CH. III.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 1^ 

ducing" sig'nal results in one who so vrell corresponded 
with every degTee of grace vouchsafed to her. This 
last manifestation of God's mercy disposed her to medi- 
tate deejjly ^^nd earnestly on the desig-ns of Providence 
in her regard. She seemed now to discern, in a clear 
and overpowering' manner, the nature of the iiarticular 
judg-ment which she had been about to unclerg-o, the 
amount of responsibility incurred by every g-race con- 
ferred on her soul, the severe account which would be 
demanded of every talent committed to her charg-e ; and 
at the sig-lit she shuddered, as a man di-aws back af- 
frighted at the distinct appearance of a precipice wljich 
he has skirted in the night, or at the waves dashin» 
wildly on a beach on which he has been landed hi safety. 
Her meditations at that time assumed a very solemn 
character; ever}-- moment tijat slie could spare was 
spent in the neighbouring church of St. Cecilia or in 
lier own oratory, and employed in a minute review of 
her past life, and in forming heroic resolutions for the 
future. 

The government of the tong-ue is one of the most 
difficult and important points in the spiritual life. 
From this time forward Francesca avoided all un- 
necessary conversations, and became habituallv silent. 
There was no moroseness in her silence; it never inter- 
fered witli tlie kindnesses or the courtesies of life ; but 
as in childliood slie liad been remarkable for it, so in 
womanliood it distinguished her, and especially since 
her illness and miraculous recovery. Vannozza inquired 
of her one dny what it was that made her so habituallv 
silent, and she answered, " God expects more of us 
than heretofore ;" and then she proposed to her a still 
stricter mode of life thnn they had yet adopted. Van- 
nozza wilhngly assented, and they agreed to give up all 
useless amusements, fashionable drives, and diversions, 
and to devote to prayer and to good vrorks the hours 
thus withdrawn ii-om the service of the world. Thev 
resolved to observe with the most exact punctuality 
^very law of God, and every precept of the Church ; to 



so ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

obey their husbands with the most attentive and Chris 
tian-Hke submission ; to be invariably docile to theh 
g'liostly father, and submit to him their actions, their 
words, and even their thoug-hts; and thus to secure 
themselves a^'ainst the deceits of he evil one. Thev 
then proceeded to arrange for tlemselves a place of 
retrea':. where they could withdraw to pray at any Iiom* 
of the day or of the night. It was not easy to aecom- 
plish this in a palace inhabited by a numerous family 
and a large number of servants ; but in a sort of cave 
at one end of the garden, and in a little room that 
happened to be unoccupied under the roof of the house, 
they established two oratories, which they furnishec' 
with crucifixes, images of our Blessed Lady, and pic- 
tures of saints, as well as with various other objects Oi 
devotion and with instruments of penance. These two 
little cells became tlieir comfort and delis'ht ; whenever 
tlieir domestic duties or their religious observances out 
of doors left them at liberty, they were in the habit of 
retiring* into the g'arden oratory, and at night they 
frerpiently spent whole hours in prayer in the upper 
chamber. The first duwm of day often found tliem at 
their orisons. The hours that were not devoted to 
prayer or to the duties of their state, they employed in 
works of charity. Almost every day tliey went to the 
hospital of San Spirito, and nursed tlie sick with the 
kindest attention ; consoling them by tlieir gentle 
words and tender care, bestowing' alms upon the most 
needy, and above all, tending* affectionately the most 
diso'ustino' cases of disease and infirmitv. ThrouGfliout 
their whole lives they never omitted this practice. To 
serve Christ in His afflicted brethren was a privilege 
they never consented to forego. 

. Francesca was at this time very anxious to lay 
aside the insignia of wealth and rank, and to dress as 
simply as the poor slie so much loved; but, always obe- 
dient, she vrould not attempt to do so without tJie per- 
mission of her spiritual guide. Don Antonio Savello 
would not give her leave to relinquish the splendid robes 



CH. III.l ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 21 

then worn bv persons of her rank ; he feared it might 
annoY her hiisband, and that there mig-ht he danger of 
ostentation in any tiling that attracted pahhc attention; 
but he allov/ed both the sisters to wear a coarse woolien 
garment under their magnificent dresses, and to practise 
m secret several other austerities. Their fasts and ab- 
stinences became more rigid tlian ever; but were carried 
on with so much simphcitv, and such a total absence of 
display, that the very persons who habitually took their 
meals in com})any with them, scarcely remarked then- 
mortihcations, or else attributed them to a peculiarity 
of taste or the observance of a regimen. Disciplines 
and other bodilv penances of a very severe nature were 
bv this time habitual to Francesca, and she persevered 
in them to tlie end of her life. With whatever care 
they concealed all these tilings, it was not jmssible that 
the city of Kome should remain ignorant of their piety 
and their g-enerosity to the poor. Tlie common people 
looked upon Francesca and Vannozza as two saints; and 
their example began to tell bencticially upon the women 
of their own class. Several noble ladies were inspired 
with the desire to walk in their steps, and to imitate 
their vutues. But it was not likely that Satan should 
behold unmoved the work of g-race thus advancing- in 
the hearts of these two young- servant-^ of God, and 
throuo-h them on many others. He chateu at the sight; 
and now Ijegan that long- series of attacks, of struggles, 
and of artilices, 1\y which he endeavoured to mar the 
g-lorious jn-ogress of these heroic souls. Almig-hty God 
seems to have g-ranted to the prince of darkness, in Snn 
Francesca's case, a permission in some respects similar 
to that which He gave liim with reg-ard to His servant 
Job. He was allowed to throw temptations in her way, 
to cause lier strange snlferings, to persecute her by 
fearfid manifestations of his visible presence, to haunt 
her under various shapes, some seductive in their ap- 

Eearance, others repulsive and terrific in their nature; 
ut he was not permitted (as, thanks be to God, he 
aever is permitted,) to deceive or to injure His faithftd 



22 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

servant, who for every trial of the sort obtained some 
divine favour in compensation ; who for every vision ol 
diahohcal horror, was allowed a g-limpse into the world 
of g'lory ; and to whom at a later period was appointed 
a heavenly guardian to defend her against the violence 
of her infernal foe. 

The first time that Satan presented himself in a 
visible form to Francesca's sicj-ht, God £"ave her an 
earnest of His protection in the strife about to be waged 
between her and the old s.erpent, by miraculously re- 
vealing to her the character of her visitor. It was 
under the aspect of a venerable hermit, emaciated with 
fasts and watchings, that he entered the Ponziano 
palace : his intention was, by some artfid words, to in- 
spire Francesca with aversion and disgust for the soli- 
tary life, aud at the same time for that hidden life 
which she so zealously practised in the midst of the 
world. He was shown into a large room, where the 
assembled family were sitting- and conversing together. 
ISo sooner had Francesca set her eyes upon him, than 
she was supernaturally enlightened as to his true cha- 
racter ; she knew at once the dreadful enemy, thus for 
the first time made manifest to her sight; and, sud- 
denly changing colour, she rose and left the room. Van- 
nozza followed (alarmed at her hasty departure), and 
found her in the oratory kneeling before the Crucifix, 
and as pale as death. She inquired into tlie cause of 
her emotion ; but Francesca simply desired her to return 
to the sitting-room, and request Lorenzo to dismiss the 
hermit. As soon as he was departed, she re-appeared 
amongst them as serene and calm as usual ; and to no 
one but to her confessor did she mention the circum- 
stance. Yet it was a most awful moment, that first 
initiation into the supernatural world, that first contact 
with the powers of darkness, that opening of the visible 
war between her and the great enemy. No wonder that 
she was habitually silent ; her soul must have lived in 
very close communion with the invisible world, and the 
presence of God must have been realised in an extraor- 



CH. III.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. CS 

dinary degree by one whose spiritual discernment was 
so miraculously keen. 

A more ordinary snare was tLe tempter's next re- 
source, and lie chose as his instrument a ])erson of piety 
and virtue, but whose human fears and affections were 
too strong- for her faith. He sugg-ested to Cecilia, ihe 
mother-in-law of the two saints, who was most fondly 
attached to them, and maternally solicitous about their 
iieaiths, that the ascetic life wliich they led must neces- 
sarily impair it; that amusements were essential to 
yoimg' persons; and that the singulnrity of their con- 
duct reflected discredit on tlie family. Under this im- 
pression, she strove by every means in lier power to 
counteract their desia'ns, to thwart tliem in their devo- 
tional and charitable practices, and to induce them to 
give U[» more of their time and of tlieir attention to the 
world. She thus gave them occasion to practise a very 
peculiar kind of patience, and to g-ain the more merit in 
tlie eyes of God, in tliat they Lnd dnily to encounter a 
sort of opposition particularly trying- to young and ar- 
dent s])irits. It is related, tliat one day, when they bad 
gently but steadily refused to pay some visits which, 
far from being absolute duties, were only ])retexts ibr 
g"ossip and the most frivolous conversations, Francesca 
and Viinnozza had retired into the gjirden oratory ; and 
after s])ending some time in pi-ayer, began conversing 
together on the life wliich the early Fathers were wont 
to lead in the deserts, and of the ha])piness it must be 
to live entirely devoted to the service of God, and to 
ctmimune with Him above, far from the distracting 
thoughts and cares of the world. They went on ])ic- 
turing to themselves the manner in which they would 
liave divided their time and arranged their occupations 
under similnr circumstances, and toii'ether thev made 
out a C()in])lete rule of life. 

Absorbed in the snbject, Vannozza exclaimed, witl 
childli' e simplicity, " But what si ould we l.ave to eafc, 
sister ?" and Francesca replied, " We should search for 
fruii? in the desei-t, dearest; and God woidd surely not 



24 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

let us seek in vain." As she said these words thtfj 
rose to return liome, and froni a tree which grew out ol 
a ruined wall on one side of tlie g-arden there fell at her 
feet a quince of tlie largest size and most shining 
colour, and another similar to it was lying in Vannozza's 
))atli. The sisters looked at each other in silent asto- 
iushmentj for the time of the year was Ain-il, and no- 
thing hut a miiacle could have hrought these apples to 
maturity at this unwonted season. The taste of the 
fruit was as excellent as its colour was heautiful. They 
were divided amongst the memhers of the family, who 
wondered at the iTxarvels which seemed continunlly to 
attend the steps of Francesca. She was profoundly 
ffrateful for such favours, hut prohahl}^ marvelled less 
than others at their occurrence. Her jf outh ; the sim- 
oliciry of her faith ; her total ahstraction from worldly 
thoughts ; her continual study and meditation of the 
Holy Sciiptures and of the lives of the Saints, — must 
have necessarily familiarised her mind with such ideas. 
It could not seem incredible to her, that the God who 
in less favoured times, and under a severer dispensation, 
had so often susoended the laws of nature, in order to 
support, to guide, and to instruct His people; that the 
Saviour who had turned water into wine by a single 
word, and v/itliered the unprofitable fig-tree by a look, — 
should at ail times display the same power in favour of 
His children, in ways not a whit more marvellous or 
mysterious. 

Cecilia made one moi-e efibrt to check what she con- 
sidered exao'O'eration in the mode of life of her dauo'liters- 
in-law. Siie urged their husbands to interfere, and by 
their authoritv to obli^-e them to mix more with the 
world. But Paluzzo and Lorenzo had too deep an 
esteem for their wives, and too great a sense of the ad- 
vantas'es thev derived from their sino-ular virtues, to be 
persuaded into putting a restraint on their actions. 
Since they had come into the family, and united their 
pious efforts for tlieir own and others' spiritual improve- 
ment, d'-sputes and quarrels had given way to the most 



OH. III.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 35 

edifying* concord. The servants, moved by tlieir ex- 
am|)le, performed tlieir duties with exemplary zeal, fre- 
queiitecl the cliurcbes and tiie sacraments, and abstained 
from profane or idle words. Tiiey according-ly entreated 
tlieir mother to give up her fruitless attempts, and allow 
the two young- women liberty to follow the rule of 
liie they had adopted ; and thus put an end to tlie 
kindly meant but trying- persecution they had g-one 
throug-h. 

About this time the devil, thw<irted in his designs, 
but always on the watch, was permitted to vent his 
ang-er ag-ainst Francesca and her sister-in-law in a way 
to \\hicii he often had recourse, and which, while it 
seemed to display a momentary power over their bodies, 
only proved in the end that a stronger one than he 
was always at hand to defeat his malice, and snatch 
fi'om him his prize. Francesca and Yannozza had gone 
to St. Peter's on an intensely hot day in July, in the 
year 1399. Absorbed in prayer, they had hardly 
noticed the lapse of time, and twelve o'clock had 
struck when they set out on their v/uy home. In order 
to avoid observation, and the marks of veneration which 
the peoi)le lavished upon them as soon as they set eyes 
on the two saints (as they always called them), they 
chose the most unii-equented streets they could find. 
The heat g-rew intolerable. The sultry air teemed on 
lire, and not a breath stirred it. Exhausted with 
fatig'ue, their mouths parched with thirst, they reached 
the church of St. Leonardo; and holding- eacii other's 
hand.>, approached the brink of the river, in order to 
cool their hurning- lips and throbhing- heads with a little 
water. As they bent over the stream for that piu-pose, 
a violent blow from an invisible arm was aimetl at 
Francesca, and hm-ied her into the Tiber. Vannozza fell 
with her; and, clasped in each other's arms, they v*-ere 
rapidly carried away by the current, and saw no means 
of escape. '' They were lovely in their lives, and in 
their deaths they were not divided," mig-ht well have 
been s lid of them, had the watery gi-ave, which seemed 



aO ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

inevitable, swallowed up on that day the two brides of 
tlie Ponziani. But it was not tlie will of God that tliey 
should perish. Human aid was not at hand ; the 
stream was rapid, the current deep, and the eddies 
curled around them; but they called upon God with 
one voice; and in an instant the waters, as if instinct with 
life, and obedient to a heavenly command, bore them 
gently to the shore, and deposited them unhurt on the 
green margin of tlie liver, 

About this time also a supernatural favour of the 
most extraordinary nature was vouchsafed to Francesca, 
Her guardian angel, who was one day to accompany li>ei", 
not by an invisible presence only, as in the case of all 
Christians, but, by a rare privilege of grace, m a visible 
form, ever manifest to lier spiritual sight, now began to 
reveal himself to her by the most watchful observance 
of her conduct. At all times and in all places, by day 
and by night, her slightest faults were noticed and 
punished by this still invisible, but now evidently pre- 
sent monitor. At the least imperfection in her conduct, 
before she had time to accuse and to condemn herselfj 
she felt the blow^ of a mysterious hand, the warning- of 
an ever-attentive 2'uardian : and the sound of that mvs- 
tical chastisement was audible to others also. Great 
was the astonishment of those who could thus discern 
somethino- of God's dealino-s with this chosen soul. 
Once, when she had abstained through human respect 
fi-om interrupting the course of a very fi-ivolous and 
useless conversation, the warning was inflicted with 
such seventy that she bore the mark of the blow for 
several succeeding days. 

Such a rapid advance in holiness, such new and ever- 
increasing virtues, were the results of this supernatm'al 
tuition, that Satan now attempted to seduce her by the 
wiliest of his artifices, the master-piece of his art, his 
favourite sin, — " the pride that apes humility." So 
many miracles wrought in her favoiu', such strange re- 
velations of Gcd's peculiar love for her soul, awakened 
in Fitincesca's mind, or rather the devl suggested to 



CH. III.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 87 

her the thoug-ht, that it might be better to conceal them 
fi'om lier director," or at least to acquaint liim with only 
a ])ortion of the wonders tliiit were wron«lit in her be- 
half; and accordingly, the n.-xt time she went to con- 
fession she refrained from mentioning' the signal gTace 
whicli had been vouchsafed to her. At the very mstant 
she was thrown prostrate on tlie ground, and recognised 
the hand of her heavenly monitor in the blow which 
thus warned her of the grievous error into which she 
was falling. In that short moment she had time to 
perceive and acknowledge it; and with intense contri- 
tion she confessed to her director the false humility 
which had beguiled her into a dangerous reserve, with 
perfect openness revealed to him the whole of God's 
})ast and present dealings with hor soul, and explained 
to him the meaning of what had just taken place. Don 
Antonio listened with astonishment and gratitude, and 
thus addressed her: '^ You have just escaped from a 
great danger, my daughter; for those who aim at per- 
fection cannot conceal any thing li-om then* spiritual 
guide without running the risk of delusion. By your 
mistaken silence you were com])lying with the sugges- 
tions of Satan, who, under the semljlance of humility, 
was seeking to awaken in you a secret and Tianeful pride. 
You would have been led bv dejiTees to over-estimate 
these supernatural favours, to deem them not merely 
means of a'race, but rewaids due to your merits ; to 
despise those to whom God does not grant them; and 
to give yourself up to extravag-ant and unauthorised 
austerities in order to secure their continuance, and to 
distinguish your.-elf in your own and others' sight. I 
sjiovild have forbidden you to practise them ; you would 
liave been temj)ted to renounce my guidance, to take 
one confessor after another, until you had found one 
weak or blind enough to approve your self-will ; and 
tlien the arch-enemy of mankind, under the garb of an 
angel of light, would have made you the prey of his 
delusicns. till at last you might have fallen from one 



28 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

error into another, and made shipwreck of your faith. 
Such has heen the downward course of many a soul, that 
has begun by yielding- to a false humility — the offspring 
of pride — and has ended in sin and perdition." 

From that time forward, Francesca was on her 
guard ag'ainst every species of pride and self-reliance, 
however disguised and refined. She related her faults 
and temptations, the graces she received and the fa- 
vours she obtained, with the same childlike openness 
and simplicity. It was at the age of sixteen that she 
was thus advanced in the science of the saints; and 
every day her virtues and her piety increased. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE BIRTH OF FRAXCESCa's FTRST CHILD —HER CARE IN HIS EDUCA- 
TION — SHK UNDERTAKES THE MANAGEMENT OF HER FATHER- 

IN-LAW'S HOUSEHOLD— A FAMINE AND PESTILENCE IN ROME 

FRANCESCA*S LABOURS FOR THE SICK AND POOR THE MIRACLES 

WROUGHT IN HER BEHALF. 

The year 1400 Vv^as opening under melancholy auspices. 
Boniface IX. was at that moment in possession of the 
pontifical throne, and celebrating the jubilee, the pe- 
riodical recurrence ofv/hich at the end of every fifty 
years had been decreed by Clement VI. in 1350; but 
Rome was even then in a lamentable state, and presag*es 
were not wanting of still more disastrous times. The 
wars for the succession of the kingdom of Naples, be- 
tween Louis of Anjou and Ladislas Durazzo, were agi- 
tating* the whole of Italy; and the capital of the Chris- 
tian v/orld was exposed to all the fury of the contending 
parties. The powerful faction of the Colonnas, in arms 
ao'ainst the Pope, invaded the Capitol at the head of a 
numerous body of insurgents on horseback and on foot; 
and t,he air resounded with the cries of " Long live the 



CH. IV.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 29 

people! Death to the tyrant Bonifjice TX.!" On that 
day the sig-nal was given for a division of parties, wliich 
led shortly afterwards to the a'ppalling- tragedy which 
decimated tlie nobility of the Eternal City and delug'ed 
her streets with blood. 

Lorenzo Ponziano, from his rank and his gTeat pos- 
sessions, as well as from his fidelity to the Church and 
the Sovereign Pontiif, was especially marked out as an 
enemy by the adverse faction. But while on every side 
the storm was brewing-, and the aspect of public afiairs 
each day more g-looniy, a blessing* was g-ranted to him 
which for the last five 3'ears he had ardently desired. 
The expectation of an heir to the family of Ponziano 
filled him and his [)arents with inexpressible deligiit- 
Francesca, in the meantime, was incessantly occupied in 
recommending' to God the child she was about to bear; 
and offei-ed up her every httle act of devotion in its behalf, 
with the hope of drawing- down the Divine ble-sing* on 
its future existence. In the same year she was happily 
delivered of a son, who was immediately ba})tise(i in 
the church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere, and received 
the name of Giovanni B-aptista. It was not at tluit 
time the custom for larlies of rank to nurse their chil- 
dren; but Francesca set aside all such considerations, 
and never consented to foreg-o a mothei-'s sacred jirivi- 
leo-e. She did not intrust her child for a moment to 
the care of others, afraid that, in her absence, the utter- 
ance of unworthy sentiments, bad manners and habits, 
which even in infancy may cause imju-essions not easily 
eradicated, should taint with the least evil the heart 
and mind of her son. It is remarkable how careful 
the holy mothers which we read of in the lives of the 
Saints appear to have been of the circumstances attend- 
ing* the infancy of their children, — that period duiing 
which we are apt to suppose that no impressions can 
be g*iven or received. Are we not perhaps in error on 
that point? As much that we read and apparently 
forg-et leaves notwithstanding* a certain d(q)osit in ouj" 
minds, which comes into play when called forth by as- 



tlO ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

sociation, so, may not certain sig'lits, sounds, and worda 
not understood at the time, impart a certain colour^ 
stamp certain imag'es on the mind of an inlant, wliicli- 
however dim and confused, deepen and g-row with it as 
it expands? There have been curious psychological in- 
stances of names, of langaiages, of dormant recollections, 
reawakening- as it were luider a peculiar condition of the 
nervous system, and which could only be traced to im- 
pressions received in the earliest stag'es of existence. 

Francesca, in obedience to her director, as well as 
guided by her own sense of duty, modified for the time 
being- her usual mode of life, and occupied herself with 
the care of her child in preference to all other observ- 
ances of charity or of devotion. She did not complam 
or reo'ret that she had to o-ive up her habitual relio-ious 
exercises, in order to tend and to nurse the little crea- 
ture whom she looked upon as the gift of God, and 
whose careful trainina- the best offering- she could make 
in return. The joy which she had felt in her infant's 
birth was m-arred by the death of her father, who, 
when his grandson was placed in his arms, exclaimed in 
the words of St. Simeon, " Lord, now lettest Thou thy 
servant depart in peace ;" and the words seem to have 
been proplietic, for lie died almost immediately after- 
wards, and was buried in the vaults of Santa Agnese, 
in the Piazza Nil ova. At a later period, when that 
church was reconstructed, his remains were transported 
to the cloisters of Tor Di Specchi, where the simple in- 
scription, " Here lies Paul Bussa," remains to this day. 
Francesca, in pursuance of her desire, not only to ex- 
clude evil, but to infuse good dispositions at the earliest 
possible period into her baby's soul, lost no opportunity 
of imparting to him the first notions of religion. Before 
he coidd speak, she used to repeat to him every day the 
Lord's Prayer and the Hail Mary, clasp his little hands 
tug-ether, and direct his eyes to heaven, and to the 
images of Jesus ? ad Mary, whose names were of course 
the first words he learned to utter. She checked in him 
by gro-ve looks, and slight punishments iitted to Im 



CH. fV.j ST. FRANCES OF ROME 81 

age, eveiy eLiillition of self-will, obstinacy, and ang-er; 
and later, of deceit, envy, and immodesty. Tiiong-li she 
Lad the most tender mother's heart, she seldom indulg-ed 
in passionate caresses, and never lel't unchastised any of 
his faults, or gave way in any instance to his tea s and 
mi})atience. When others objected tliat it was absurd 
to expect self-command from a creature whose reason 
was not developed, she maintained that habits of self- 
control are to be acrpiired at the earliest age, and that 
the benefit thus obtained extends to the whole of life. 
The chihl thus trained lived to prove the wisdom of her 
views, and became in difficult times the supj)ort of his 
family and an honour to their name. 

About a year after the birth of Giovanni Baptista, 
Cecilia, Lorenzo's mother, died. Andretizzo Ponzi- 
ano, iiud both his e-ons, tidly conscious of the j)rudence 
and virtue of Francesca, resolved to place her at the 
head of the house, and to commit to her alone the 
superintendence of their dome.-tic ati'airs and tl^e whole 
management of the household. Distresseil at the pro- 
posal, she pleaded her youth and inex])erienee, and 
urged that Vannozza, as the wife of the ehh'st brother, 
was as a matter of course entitled to that position. Van- 
nozza, however, pleaded with such eagerness that it was 
her most anxious desire not to occupy it, and that all 
she wished was to be Francesca's disciple and compa- 
nion, that, overcome by the general importunity, she 
found herself obliged to comply. IV ow it was that her 
merit shone cons})icuously. Placed at the head of the 
most opulent house in liome, no symptom of pride, of 
hauglitiness, or of self-complacency, ever revealed itself 
m her looks or in her actions. She was never heard to 
speak a harsli or impatient word. Firm in recjuirinp 
from every person in her liouse tlie pro})er fulhlment oi 
their duties, she did it in the gentlest manner. Always 
courteous to her servants, she urged them to sei've God 
with diligence, and watched over their souls redeemed 
by His precious blood. Her address was so winning 
and persuasive, that it seldom failed of its eifect She 



32 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

contrived to arrang-e tlie lioiirs of tlieir labour with ro 
much order mtd skill, that each had suificient leisure to 
hear Mass, to attend the parochial instructions on Sun- 
days and holidays, to frequent the Sacraments, and join 
every day in family prayer, — fulfilling tlie whole of a 
Christian's duty. If by any chance (and it was a raiv? 
one in a house thus governed) a quarrel arose between 
any of the servants, she was always ready to come for- 
ward, appease angry passions, and reconcile diiferences. 
If, in so doing, she had occasion to speak with what 
she considered undue severity to one of the parties, she 
would immediately apologise with tears, and in the 
humblest manner entreat forgiveness. This extreme 
sweetness of disposition, however, did not degenerate 
into weakness ; and she could testify the utmost displea- 
sure, and reproved with energy when offences were 
committed against God. It was intolerable to her 
that His Divine ^lajesty should be insulted in her 
abode; and she, the gentlest and most unassuming of 
women, could display on such occasions the greatest 
firmness. 

One day, it is recorded, several g-entlemen had been 
lining witli Lorenzo ; and one of them after dinner drew 
from his pocket a book which contained a treatise on 
magic. Lorenzo took it up, and was examining- it with 
some curiosity, when his wife stole noiselessly behind 
him, took it out of his hands, and threw it into the fire. 
Nettled by this proceeding*, her husband reproached her 
in rather birter terms for her incivility to their guest ; 
but she, who w^as habitually submissive to his least 
word, only reijlied that she could not regret the destruc- 
tion of what might have proved to many an occasion of 
sin. She inexorably consigned to the flames in tlie 
same manner every bad book that came in her way. 

Her tender charity was evinced when any of the in- 
mates of the palace were ill. She was then the affection- 
ate i'.irs2 j:' ■ji'i-i in^erers, and spent whole nights by the'u 
bedside. Nothing ever discouraged or wearied her; thb 
lowest servant in the house was attended to, as if she ha*i 



CH. IV.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. & 

been her own motlier or sister. More iinxioiis still for 
their soul's henltli than their body's, she was known to 
g'o out herself alone at night in search of a priest when 
a sudden case of dang-er had occurred beneath her roof. 
Her charity was in one instance miraculously rewarded 
by a direct interposition of Providence, in a matter ap- 
parently trifling, but on which, humanly speaking, her 
dear sister Vannozza's existence seemed to turn. She 
was dangerously ill, and had been for days unable to 
swallow any food ; the very sight of it caused her in- 
tolerable nausea; and from sheer exhaustion her life was 
reduced to so low an ebb, that the worst was apprehended. 
On Francesca's inquiring if she could think of any thing 
which she cou.ld imagine it ijossible to eat, she named a 
ceitain fish, which was not in season at that time. I'he 
markets were scoured by the servants, but naturally in 
vain, and they returned empty-handed to the dejected 
Francesca, who, kneeling by the bed-ide of her friend, 
betook herself, with arduous faith and childlike sim- 
pheity, to luayer. When she raised her head, the 
r.uich-wished-for article of food was lying before lier ; 
and the iirst morsel of it that Vannozza eat restored her 
to health. 

Slie had been about a year at the head of her 
father-in-law's house, when Kome fell under the double 
scourge of famine and pestilence. The Ponziani were 
immensely rich, and their palace furnished with eveiy 
kind of ])rovisions. Francesca forbade her servants to 
send away a single poor person without relieving their 
wants; and not content with this, she sou.ght them out 
herself, invited them to come to her, and made them 
continual presents of corn, wine, oil, and clothing. She 
exhorted them to bear their sufferings with patience, 
to return to God and to their religious duties, and to 
strive by fervent prayer to appease the Divine wrath, 
provoked by the crimes of mankind. Yannozza and her- 
self were inth^i'atigalile in their visits to the hospitals 
and the out-of-the-way cornei*s of the city. 

Andreazzo Ponziano, a good man, but not a saint, 

9 



34 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

was alarmed at the excessive liberality of liis daiisrlite?- 
In-law, and feared that it would end in prolucing- a faminQ 
in liis own house. He began b}^ prudently withdrawing 
fi'om tlieir hands the key of the granary ; and then, for 
greater security, afraid perhaps of yielding to their 
entreaties, which he was not accustomed to resist, he 
took to selling whatever corn he possessed beyond 
what was required for the daily consumption of the 
family. Nothing, therefore, remained in the corn-loft 
but a huge heap of straw. The provident old man fol- 
lowed the same plan with his cellar, and sold all the 
wine it contained, with the exception of one cask, which 
was reserved for his own and his children's use. 

Meanwhile the scarcity went on increasing* every 
day, and the number of staiTing wretches in proportion. 
Francesca. unable to meet their, demands, and still more 
incapable of leaving them to perish, braved at last all 
false shame and repugnance, and resolved with Vannozza 
to go into the streets and beg for the poor. Then 
were seen those two noble and lovely women standing 
at the doors of the churches, knocking at the gates of 
the palace, following- the rich in the public places, 
pleading with tears the cause of the sufferers, gladly 
receiving- the abundant alms that were sometimes be- 
stowed upon them, and not less gladly the sneers, the 
repulses, the insulting words that often fell to their 
share in these pilgrimages of mercy. At last the 
famine reached its height. At every side, — on the 
pavement, in the corners of the streets, — were lying 
crowds of persons, barely clothed with a few tattered 
rags, haggard v\-ith hunger, wasted with fever, and 
callino- uDon death to end their sufferino-s. It was a 
grievous, a horrible sight, — one that well-nigli broke 
the heart of onv saint. The moanino-s of the dAnno' 
were m her ears : the expression of their ghastly faces 
hamited her day and night. Slie would have gladly 
shed her blood for them, and fed them with her life. 
A STidden insr;)iration came over her one day: ^^Coma 
to the corn-i{)ffe,'' she exclaimed, tui-ning to Vannozza, 



CH. IV.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 35 

and to Clara, a favourite and pious servant of theii-s; 
" Come with me to tlie cona-loft ; let us see if among-st 
tlie straw we mav not succeed in findino- a few o-rains 
of corn for tlie poor." And on their knees for several 
hours tlio.-e patient, loving- women sifted the straw, and by 
dint of labour collected about a measure of corn, which 
';hey were bearing away in triumph, when the God 
who caused the widow's oil not to fail, and made hei 
barrel of m al last through a scarcely more g'rievous 
famine, was preparing* their reward. Lorenzo had 
entered the g:ranary just as they were can-ying- of! 
their hard-earned treasure, and, looking' about him, 
beheld in place of tlie straw whicli was lying* there a 
moment before, 40 measures of bright yellow corn, so 
shinini*' and so full, savs Francesca's earliest bio- 
g-raplier, tlint it seemed as tlioug-li it had been raised 
in Paradise, aiid reaped there by ang-els. In silent 
astonishment he pointed out to tliem the miraculous 
sup})ly, and must have felt in that hour what such 
virtue as his wife's and his sister's could even in tliis 
world win of mercy at God's hands. But corn was 
not enougl>; tlie sick wanted wine. They cnme, poor 
oaHid g'hosts, just risen from their beds of suifering-, to 
bes^- it of France?ca; aged men and delicate cliildren, 
motliei-s witli infants at their breasts, -poor worn-out 
priests sinking* with exhaustion, and yet willing- to 
assist othei-s, tliey had recourse to her for a little wine 
to strengthen them in their works of mercy, and slie 
had no wine to g'ive, save out of the single cask in tlio 
eellnr. SJie gnve it, nevertheless ; and day after day 
drew from it, till not a drop was left. Andreazzo, pro- 
voked, waxed vervwrotli; he had never before been 
angry with I'rnncesca, but now he stormed and raved 
at her; he had been to the cellar to see the wine drawn 
for that day's use, and not a drop was in the cask. 
" Charity indee^^ !" he exclaimed, " charity beg*ins at 
home; a pietty sort of virtue this, whicli, under tlie pre- 
text of assisti'ip- strang-ers, introduces penury and priva- 
tion into the midst of a person's own family." 



56 ST. FRAJNCES OF ROME. 

Hd vented his anger in bitter reproaches ; Lorenzo 
and Pnlnzzo were also inclined to take his part, and 
joined in severely blaming* Francesca. She the while, 
with a gentle voice and quiet manner, breathing' most 
probably a secret prayer to her Vv^ho at the hiarriage- 
foast of Cana turned to her Son and said, '^' Thev have 
no wine," doubtless with an inward assurance that God 
would befriend her in an extraordinary, but not to 
her an unprecedented manner, thus addressed them : 
"Do not be angTyj let us go to the cellar; may 
be, thi-ouo'h God's mercv, that the cask may be fulj 
by this time.' They follovved her with an involun- 
tary submission; and on reaching" the spot, savv" liei 
turn the cock of the barrel, out of which there instantly 
flowed the most exquisite wine, which Andreazzo ac- 
knowledged to be superior to any he had ever tasted. 
The venerable old man tiu-ned to his daughter-in-law, 
and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed, 

^' Oh, my dear child, dispose henceforward of every 
thing I possess, and multiply without end those alms 
ihat have gained you such favour in God's sight." 

The report of this miracle spread far and wide; and, 
in spite of her humility, Francesca did not object to its 
being divulged, as it testified to the Divine virtue oi 
almso'ivino' and encourao'ed the rich to increase their 

CO-' O 

liberality, and minister more abimdantly to the suffering 
members of Christ. 

A kind of religious awe seems to have taken pos- 
session of Lorenzo's mind, at tlie sight of so many won- 
ders v/rought in his house. The great esteem in which 
he had ahvays held his wife, now took the form of a 
profound veneration. He recommended her to follow 
in every respect the divine inspirations she received, 
and left her entii-el}'' free to oider her life and dispose 
of her time in any way she thought fit. Francesca, 
aftei consulting- with her' director, took advantage 
of this pei-mission to execute what had been her 
lons:-cherished desire. Sellino' all her rich dresses, her 
jewels, and her ornaments, she distributed the money 



HH. V.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 37 

araongst a number of poor families, and from that time 
forward never wore herself any other g-own than one of 
coarse dark-green cloth. Her mortifications became so 
continual and severe, her fosts so rig'id, that it is difficult 
to conceive how her health could have sustained them 
without miraculous support, or how she can have found 
time for all her duties, and the incredible number of 
good works which she daily performed. When we 
consider that she was unremitting- in lier attention to 
her children, that she was never known to neglect the 
diligent superintendence of household affiiirs, that she 
repeatedly visited the hospitals and the poor sick in 
their houses, that morning and evening she went to the 
churches where indulg-ences were to be gained, recited 
numerous vocal prayers, often spent hours in contem- 
plation, and in the garden oratory, where with Yan- 
nozza, Clara, and Rita Celli, a devout young person who 
WQs admitted into their intimacy, she read spiritual 
books or conversed on religious sidjjects, — our admira- 
tion is quickened; for that zeal and strong will could 
work wonders all but incomprehensible to those wlio have 
not put their shoulder to the wheel in good earnest, or 
learnt to a])preciate the priceless value of every minute 
of this short life. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE BIRTH OF FRANCESCa'S SECOND SOX— HIS SUPERNATURAL GIFTS 
— THE BIRTH OF HER DAUGHTER — SATANIC ATTACKS UPON 
FRANCESCA — TROUBLKS OF ROME — FRANCESCA'S HUSBAND IS 
SEVERF.LT "WOUNDED — HER ELDEST SON, WHEN GIVEN UP AS A 
HOSTAGE TO THE NEAPOLITANS, IS MIRACULOUSLY RESTORED TO 
HER. 

pRANCESCA had just attained the age of twenty when 
aer second son was born. He was baptised on the day 
of his biith, and received the name of Giovanni Evan. 



83 ST. FRANCES OF UOM^. 

g'elista. The contemporary biog-raplier, some of wliose 
sayings have been ah-eady quoted, mentions of this 
child tliat }ie was endowed with wonderful (Arts of 
g'race, and that the love of God was manifested in him 
even before he could speak. In his quaint language he 
thus describes him: /' Evangelista was old in sense, 
small in body, great in bouT, resplendent in beauty, 
aa<^*el-like in all his wavs." He mi<>-lit well have been 
termed, in familiar language, his mother's own child ; 
for in his veriest infancy his onl}^ pleasure was to be 
carried into cliiirches, or to give alms to the needy, 
especially to the poor religious, for whom he had a 
special predilection. Francesca's delight in this lovely 
little infant was indescribable. He was to her as one 
of God's own angels, and tears of joy filled her eyes as 
she mused on the extraordinary signs of grace which 
he daily evinced. Supernatural had been the mother's 
virtues, supernatural were the qualities of the child ; 
at the age of three years old he was endowed with the 
gift of prophecy, and the faculty of reading the un- 
uttered thoughts of men's hearts. 

Singular instances of this power are on record. He 
was in his mother's arms one day, when two mendi- 
cant friars approached the Ponzianu Palace. Instantly 
stretching out his little hands, Evangelista took from 
Francesca the alms she was wont to bestow on such 
visitors, and held it out to them ; but at the same time 
looking steadfastly at one of the monks, he said to him, 
^' Why will you put off this holy habit? you will wear 
a liner one; but woe to you who forget your vow of 
poverty." 

The friar coloured and turned away ; but it Avas 
soon evident that the words were prophetic, for within 
a short time, and after obtaining a bishopric through 
a simoniacal act, the unhappy man died a violent d(?ath. 
That same year, Evangelista was in his parent's room 
one day ; and his father taking him up on his knees, 
was playing with him, and devouring him with kisses. 
In the midst of his spoilt, the child turned suddenly 



CU. v.] ST. FRANCES OF ROM??.. 89 

pule, and laying- hold of a dag-g-er which had been left 
on the table, he placed the point of it ag*ainst Lorenzo's 
side, and said to him, as he looked up into his face with 
a strang-e melancholy smile, ^' Thus will they do to you, 
my father." And it so happened that at the time ot 
the invasion of I^ome by the troops of Ladislas Durazzo, 
the lord of Ponziano was dang-erously wounded in the 
exact place and manner which his little son had pointed 
out. 

Evang-elista was not quite three years old when his 
little sister Ag'nese was born, who in beauty, heavenly 
sweetness of temper, and precocious piety, proved the 
exact counterpart of her brother. Soon after her con- 
finement, Francesca had a vision which impress(?d her 
with the belief tjiat God would one day claim this child 
as His own. bhe saw a dove of dazzling* whiteness, 
bearing- in its beak a tiny lig-hted taper, enter the room ; 
and after making- two or three circles in the air, it 
stooped over Ag-nese's cradle, touched her brow and 
limbs with the, taper, gently fluttered its wing^, and flew 
awny. Looking- upon this as a sig-n tliat the little 
maiden would be called to tlie moniistic life, she 
brought her up as a precious deposit only lent her for 
a time, and to be delivered up at no distant period. 
Witli even stricter care than she had used with her 
orother, if that were possible, she watched over tlie 
little g'irl ; never leaving- her for a single moment, and 
performing- towards her the oflices of a servant as well 
as of a mother. She ke})t her in comj)lete retirement, 
never tnking- her out of doors except to church ; teach- 
ing- her to love Jesus supremely — Letter even tlian her 
parents —and entei-taining- her with descri])tions of that 
denr Saviour's adorable perfections. She encourngod 
her to ol)serve silence, to work A\ith her Lands at stated 
times, and taug-ht her to read in the lives of the saints 
of holy virg-ins and martyrs. Ag-nese's character and 
ti>in of mind answered precisely to her mother's wishes,* 
and the perfection of her conduct was such, that sha 



*0 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

was g-enerally desig-nated by all who knew her as the 
little saint or the little angel. 

The ycnrs of Evang-eiista's and Ag*nese's infancy had 
been most disastrous ones to the unhappy inhabitants oi 
Rome. The factions which had arisen in consequence 
of the schism, and of the intrig'ues of Ladislas of Naples, 
iiad banished all security, and converted the town into 
a field of battle, where bloody conflicts were daijy tak- 
mg' place. The principles of union seemed banished 
from the world. The nations and sovereig-ns of Europe, 
given up to the most selfish policy, ceased to acknow- 
ledge the chief pastor of the Church ; and the Eternal 
City, beyond any other place, had become an arena for 
ferocious strug-g-les and sanguinary conspiracies. The 
year 1406 brought with it a momentary semblance of 
peace, and Francesca and -Vannozza availed themselves 
of that breathing-time to revisit some of the distant 
churches, and attend the Italians as before. They used 
to walk to them on foot at the earliest break of day, 
accompanied by Rita Celli, the young person already 
mentioned, and Lucia degli Aspalli, a devout married 
woman nearly related to the Ponziano family. They 
repeated psalms and litanies on their way, or spent the 
time in pious meditation, and remained some hours in 
prayer before the altars which they visited in turn, — 
taking care to be at home again by the time that their 
presence was required. In that troubled epoch the 
voice of the preacher was seldom heard ; sermons, how- 
ever, were occasionally delivered by the Eranciscans 
and 'the Dominicans in the churches of Ara Coeli and 
Santa Maria sopra Minerva; and at these our saints 
never failed to assist. Their spiritual guide had given 
them leave to go to communion several times a week. 
This was a privilege seldom granted and seldom sought 
for in those distracted times. The blessed practice of 
daily communion, which universally prevailed amongst 
the early Christians, — that practice which turns earth 
into lieaven, and converts the land of exile into a para- 



SH. V.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 41 

dise of peace and joy, — was all but entirely neg"lect(^cl, 
or only kept up in some few cloistei>\ The two sisters 
habitually communicated in the church of Santa Ceciha, 
the neai'est to tlieir house. One of the priests of that 
parish was scandalised at the frequency of their com- 
munions, and persuaded himself that it was incredible 
that young* women of tlieir age, and in such a position 
of life, could possibly be in possession of the requisite 
dispositions. This unhappy man ventured one day tc 
give Francesca an unconsecrated wafer ; God instantly 
revealed to the saint the sin of the priest, and she in- 
foraied her director of the fact. Don Antonio disclosed 
to the astonished offender the secret which had been 
confined to his own breast. He confessed his fault with 
the deepest contrition, implored God's pardon, asked 
forg"iveness of the saint, and received the humiliation as 
a warning* against rash judgments. 

The warfare which Satan was permitted to carry 
on against Francesca became more and more violent at 
this period of lier life. In actual outrages, in terrific 
visions, in mystical but real sufferings, wliich aftlicted 
every sense and tortured every nerve, the animosity of 
the evil spirit evinced itself; and Almig-hty God per- 
mitted it, for she was of those chosen througli much 
tribulation to ascend the steep [)ath which is paved 
with thorns and compassed with darkness, but on 
which the ray of an unearthly sunshine bi-eaks at times. 
She was to pnrtake of tiie miraculous gifts of tlie saints; 
to win men's souls tln-oug'h prayer, to read the secrets 
of their hearts, to see angels walking ])y her side, to 
heal diseases by the touch of her hands, and hold the 
devils at bay, when they thought to injure the bodies 
of others or wnge war with her own spii-it. But such 
heights of glory are not gained without projiortionate 
suffering- ; the cup of which Jesus drank to the dreg-s 
in His agony she was to drink of, the bnptism of horror 
with which He was baptised was to be her's also in a 
measure; and that mysterious weakness, that divine 
liclpiessness of His, which allowed Satan to carry Him, 



l2 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. * 

the Lord of all, to tlie pinnacle of the temple or tlifl 
brow of the mountain, was not unshared b j His servant. 
Strano-e and bewilderins- were tlie assaults she endured, 
but still more wonderful the defeats of the evil ona 
Of her triumph, as of those of her Lord, it may be said, 
" that when the devil left her, then ang-els came ar.d 
ministered unto her." Strang-e, that those who believe 
the history of Jesus should tui-n incredulously aAvay 
from that of His saints ; for did He not expressly say, 
that what He suffered, they should suffer ; that where 
He had overcome, they would triumph; and that the 
works that He performed, aye and greater works still, 
they should accomplish ? 

On one occasion, when on the point of setting- out 
for the Basilica of St. Peter's, Yannozza was violently 
precipitated down the stairs of the palace by the power 
of the evil spirit, and fell at her sister's feet, who at 
that instant heard a voice whispering- in her ear, " I 
would kill thy sister, and drive thee to despair;" but 
at the same moment an inward revelation bade Fran- 
cesca raise up the pi-ostrate form of her friend, and 
apply to her bruised limbs an ointment which instantly 
relieved the pains of her fall. Another time oiu' saint 
was lifted up by the hair of her head, and suspended 
over a precipice for the space of some minutes ; with 
perfect calmness she called upon Jesus, and in a mo- 
ment foimd herself in safety within her room. Her 
first act was to cut off her beautiful hair, and offer it 
up as a thank-offering- to Him who had saved her from 
the hands of the infernal enemy. These are only speci- 
mens of the trials of this nature to which Francesca 
was more or less subjected all her life, but to which it 
will not be necessary again to make more than casual 
allusion. 

In the year 1409, when she was about twenty-seven 
ears old, her temporal calamities began. After Ladis- 
as of Naples, befriended by the enemies of the Pope, 
Qad iu l408 gained possession of Rome by fraudulent 
'neans \ie leit behind liim as governor of the city the 



T 

la 



CH. v.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 43 

Count Pietro Traju, a roug'li and brutal soldier, well 
fitted to serve the fierce passions of his master. He 
was continually looking* out for occasions to persecute 
those Roman nobles who remained faithful to the cause 
of the Church. He was abetted in this by the fac- 
tion of tlie Colonnas, and some other powerful families, 
uho supported the j)retensions of the anti-Popes Gre- 
gory XII. and Benedict XIII. pgainst the leg'itimate 
])ontiff Alexander V., recently elected by the Council of 
Pisa. The troo[)s of Lewis of Anjou, the rival of Ladis- 
lasi in the kingdom of Naples, had in the mean time 
entered that portion of Rome which went by the name 
of the Leonine City, and gained possession of the Vati- 
can and the castle of St. Ang-elo. Several skirmisljes 
took place between the forces of the usurj)er and the 
iroops of the Pope and of Lewis of Anjou. Lorenzo Pon- 
7<iano, who from his birth and his talents was the most 
(Eminent man of his party, and an ardent supporter of 
the legitimate cause, commanded the pontifical army 
on one of these occasions, and was personally engaged 
in a conflict with the Count of Traja's soldiers. In the 
niidst of the fi-ay he w'as recog-nised by the ojiposite 
,,ai-ty, and became the special mark of their attacks. 
Fighting- with heroic courage, lie had nearly succeeded 
in dis])ersing' his assailants, when, as Evangelista had 
foretold the year before, a dagger was treacherously 
thrust into his side, and inflicted so deej) a wound that 
he fell to the gTound, and was taken up for dead. The 
terrible news was carried to the Ponziano palace, and 
announced to Francesca. The anguish that her coun- 
tenance revealed filled the bystanders with compassion ; 
but it was only for an instant that she stood as if trans- 
fixed and oveiwhclmed with g-i-ief. 

Repressing- }>y a strong- efiort her bursting* sobs and 
the cries that were breaking- from her heart, she soon 
rtiised her eyes to lieaven with a steadfast g"aze, forgave 
the assassin, offered up Lorenzo's life and her own, ana 
mui-mured the words of J 3b, "The Lord had g-iven 
Lim, the Lord has taken him away; blessed be the 



44 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

name of tlie Lord." Then, calm, composed, bracea foi 
endm*ance, she courag-eously advanced to meet the slow 
aoproach of thost,^ who were bringing- back to his home 
the body of her murdered husband. As they laid him 
in the hall of the palace, she knelt by his side, and put- 
ting- her face close to his, she discerned in the apparently 
lifeless form the faint symptoms of lingering vitality. The 
sudden revulsion of hope did not overcome her presence 
of mind. She instantly desired those about her to send 
for a priest and for a doctor ; and then, bending over 
Lorenzo, she suggested to him, in words which found 
their way to the understanding of the dying' man, 
whatever the most affectionate tenderness and the most 
ardent piety could devise at such a moment, — to pre- 
pare the soul for its last flight, pardon for his foes, and 
especially for his assassin, a firm trust in God, and the 
union of his sufferings wdth those of his Lord. 

The palace presented a scene of wild confusion. 
Armed men were moving to and fi*o ; the clash of arms 
was mingled with the groans of the servants : the w^eep- 
ing and wailings of the women and of the children, 
vows of vengeance, curses' deep and loud, frantic re- 
gTets, were heard on every side. Francesca alone was 
as an angel of peace, in the midst of the uproar of pas- 
sion and the outpouring of grief. Her's w^as the keen- 
est sorrow of all ; but it was kept under by the strength 
of a long-practised faith, and thus it interfered with no 
duty and staggered at no trial. Day and night she 
w^atched by Lorenzo's couch. Her experience in nurs- 
ing the sick, and in dressing* w^ounds, enabled her to 
render him the most minute and efficacious assistance. 
Her watchful love, her tender assiduity, received its 
reward ; God gave her that life, far dearer to her than 
her own. Contrary to all expectation, Lorenzo slowdy 
recovered; but for a long time remained in a precarious 
condition. 

Meanwhile the Count of Traja, pressed on every 
side, began to foresee the necessity of leaving Rome; 
but, in his exasperation, resolved previously to wreal( 



CH. V.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 45 

hiL^ vengeance on tlie families most devoted to the Pope, 
and especially on that of the Ponziani, which was 
especially obnoxious to him. lie accordingly arrested 
Palnzzo, Vannozza's husband, and kept him in close 
confinement; and understanding- that Lorenzo had a 
son of eight or nine years old, he commanded that he 
should he given up into his hands as a hostage, and 
swore that in case of a refusal he would put Paluzzo to 
death. Now, indeed, is Francesca tried almost beyond 
the power of endurance : now is her cup of anguish 
filled to the brim. She can ask counsel of noj^e : Lo- 
renzo she dares not consult : it miglit kill him to hear 
the fearful trutii. Others would say, " Give up the 
child;" and she looks at his lair face, at his innocent 
eyes, at the purity of his spotless brow ; and she cannot, 
she will not, she must not give him up. Oh, that she 
had the wings of a dove to fiy away and carry him 
hence ! She takes liirn b}' the hand, and, like a second 
Hagar, goes forth, whither she knows not. It is an 
instinct, an im])ulse, an inspiration. It is the mother's 
heart within her that bids her lly from the horrible 
dilemma, and save her child from the tyrant who seeks 
more than his life, — who would ruin his soul. Through 
out-of-the-way streets, into the deserted corners of the 
city she goes, clasping the boy's hand with an agonis- 
ing grasp, with but one thought — to hide him from 
every eye. Suddenly she stops short ; before her 
stands Don Antonio, her long-trusted director, who has 
led her throuo'h the gi-een })astures in which her spirit has 
found rest. He questions her, and hears the incoherent 
account of her fears, her anguisli, and her ilight. By 
a supernatui-al light he sees the dril"t of this trial, and 
puts her faith to the test. " Francesca," he said, " you 
fly to save the child: God bids me tell you that it is 
to the Capitol you must carry him — there lies his 
safety ; and do you go "^o the Church of Ara Cceli." A 
fierce struggle rose in Francesca's heart — the greatest 
Btorm that had ever convulsed it. ^' To the Capitol ! " 
BJie is about to cry. " It is at *.]ie Capitol that the 



4G ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

tyrant awaits him!" But ere the words aie uttered, 
they die away on her lips. Grace has grained the 
mastery ; tlie faith of the saint has asserted its power. 
The wild expression passes away from her eyes; she 
bows hei head in silence, and with a firm step retraces 
iier steps, in ohedience to him who has spoken in God's 
name. In the mean time tlie report of the event had 
SDread throu""h Rome, and in the more crowded streets 
which she had to pass throug-h a cry of pity and of 
terror arose. Crowds press ahout her, and hid her turn 
back ; they tell her she is mad to surrender the child , 
they try to take him from her, and to carry him back by 
force to his father's palace ; but in vain. She waves them 
oif, and piu'sues her way till she has reached the Capitol. 
She walked straight up to the place where the 'Nea- 
politan tyrant vvas standing, and surrendered up the 
boy to him; and then, without once looking- back, she 
hurried into the Church of Ara Coeli, fell prostrate at 
the feet of the Mother of Mercy, and before that sacred 
image, dear to this day to every Catholic parent, she 
made the sacrifice of her child, of her life, of her soul, 
of all that in that horn' she had felt to give up. Then, 
for the first time, a torrent of tears relieved her tis-ht- 
bound heart ; and gazing* on the picture, she saw the 
dove-like eyes of the Blessed Virgin assume the ten- 
derest and most encouraging- expression, and in her 
ears were whispered words welcome as the dew to the 
thirsty g-round; sweet as the notes of the bu-d when the 
storm has subsided : "Be not afraid ; 1 am here to 
befriend you." 

She was at peace; she felt sm'e that her son Vv'as 
safe ; and on her knees, in speechless prayer, she waited 
the event. Nor did she wait long. When she had 
left the Count of Traja's presence, he had ordered one 
of his officers to take the little Baptista on his horse, 
and carry him away to a place he appointed ; but, from 
the instant that the child was placed on the saddle, no 
efforts could induce the animal to stir fr-om the spot* 
In vain his ridoi iir^*ed him with spurs and whip: 



CH. VI.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 47 

neither the severest blows, nor tlie accustomed voice of 
his master, succeeded in moving- him an inch from the 
place, where he stood as motionless as a statue. Four 
of" the knig-hts of Naples renewed the attempt. Four 
successive steeds were tried for the purpose, and al- 
wavs with the same result. There is a strens-tli f^-reater 
than man's will ; there is a power that defeats human 
malice. Struck with a secret teiTor and dismay hy tlie 
evident prodigy, the Count of Traja g-ave u]) the un- 
equal contest, and ordered the cliild to be restored to 
his mother. Before the altar of the Am Ccvli, at the 
foot of that imag'e, where in her anguish she had fallen 
and found hope when ho])e seemed at end, Francesca 
received back into her arms the son of her love, and 
blessed the God who had g'iven her strength to g*o 

throuo-li this the severest of her trials. 

o 



CHAPTER VI. 

SUFFERINGS OF ROME FROM THE TROOPS OF LADISLAS — DEATH OP 
FRANCF-SCa's SON EVANGFLISTA — THE FAMINE AND PLAGUE IN 

ROME FRANCESCA'S LABOURS FOR THE STARVING AND SICK 

HER MIRACLES. 

Pope Alexander V. died at Bologrna in 1410. Six- 
teen cardinals assembled in that city, and chose for 
his successor Balthazar Cossa, who took the name of 
John XXII T. While they were jn-oc^eding- with the 
election, Ladislas seized the opportunity of tlie inter- 
reaiium once more to advance upon Rome ; and fiom 
Veletri he threatened it with a second invasion. The 
new Pope renewing* the alliance with Lewis of Anjou, 
they combined their forces against Ladislas, and en- 
deavoured to drive him back from the jtosition he had 
taken. Then* arms proved successfid in a first battle ; 
but Lewis having withdrawn his troops immediately 



48 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

after the victory, Laclislas deceived the Holy Father by 
a pretended peace, g-aiiied possession of Rome, and gave 
it up to pillage. The horrors of this invasion, and of 
the sack that followed it, surpassed in atrocity almost 
all those which had previously afflicted the capital of 
the Christian world. A number of palaces and houses 
were destroyed, the basilicas were despoiled of their 
treasures and desecrated by the most abominable orgies, 
the churches turned into stables, and many of the laith- 
fid adherents of the Church subjected to the torture or 
barbarously put to' death. 

The Pouziani were amongst the principal of the 
Pope's supporters; and Lorenzo, scarcely recovered from 
his long ilh"»ess, was persuaded by his friends to with- 
draw himself by flight fi*om the fury of the conqueror, 
and conceal himself in a distant province. It had been 
impossible to remove his wife and children ; and Fran- 
cesca remained exposed to a succession of the most 
trying disasters. The wealth of the family chiefly con- 
sisted in their country possessions, and the immense 
mimber of cattle which were bred on those broad lands ; 
and day after day intelligence was brought to her that 
one farm-house or another was burnt or pillaged, the 
flocks dispersed or destroyed, and the shepherds mur- 
dered by a ruthless soldiery. Terrified peasants made 
their escape into the city, and scared the inhabitants of 
the palace with dreadful accounts of the death of their 
companions, and of the destruction of property which 
was continually going on. A cry of despair rang from 
Mount Soracte to the Alban Hill, extended to the shores 
of the Mediterranean, and resounded in the palaces ot 
Rome, carrying dismay to the hearts of its ruined and 
broken-spirited nobles. 

Francesca received the tidings with an aching heart 
indeed ; for her compassion for the sufferings of others 
did not permit her to remain unmoved amidst such dire 
misfortimes. Still she never lost her habitual composure ; 
her only occupation was to console the mourners : her 
first impulse on these occasions to bless God, and accept 



(,fl. VI. 1 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 49 

at His hands all that His providence ordained. It was 
well that she was resigned, and had learned the lesson 
of coura^-e at the foot of the Cross : for, like a Hood at 

o ... . . 

spring'-tide, lier amictions were increasing' exevj day, 
threatening- to overwhelm all landmarks but those of an 
indomitable faith. One fatal morning-, a troop of savage 
ruffians, drunk with rag-e, and vociferating- blasphemies, 
broke into the palace, clamouring- alter Lorenzo, and 
tlu'eatening- to torture the servants if thev did not in- 
stantly reveal his place of concealment j and ended by 
carrying' away Baptista, who clung' in vain to his 
mother's neck, and was only parted from her by force. 
When tliey had succeeded in tearing- liim away from her 
arms, they proceeded to pihage, and all but to destroy, 
the time-honoured residence of the Ponziani. In tlie 
space of a few hours tliat g-org-eous aljode was turned 
into a heap of ruins. Bereft of lier husband, of her 
son, and of all the conveniences of life, Francesca, with 
her two young-er children, remained alone and unpro- 
tected ; ior her brotlier- in-law, Paluzzo, who mig-ht 
have been a support to her in tliat dreadiul moment, 
was still a prisoner in the tyrant's hands, and her inno- 
cent boy shared the same fate. It is not exactly known 
how long" his ca})tivity lasted ; but it may be supposed 
that means were foiuid of effecting' his release, and 
sending- him to Lorenzo j for it k- UK^ntioned thut, at the 
period when the troubles were at. an end, and peace re- 
stored to the city of Rome, ^he lather and the son re- 
turned tog-ether. 

In the mean time, Francesca took shelter in a comer 
of her ruined habitation ; and there, with Evang-elista 
and Ag-nese, she managed to live in the most complete 
seclusion. These two children wore now their mother's 
only comfort, as their education was her principal occu- 
pation. Evang-elista, as he advanced in age, in no way 
oelied the promise of his infancy. He lived in spirit 
with the ang-els and saints, and seemed more fitted for 
.heir society than for any earthly companionship. " To 
'W) with God" was his only dream of bliss. Thoug-h 

B 



50 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

scarcely nine years old, he already helped his .notliei 
in all the pains she took with Agnese's education 

The hour for another sacrifice was, however, at hand. 
It was not long' delayed. The second invasion of Roma 
had been succeeded by a dreadfid famine, which was 
followed in its turn by a severe pestilence. Already 
one or two cases of the prevailing epidemic had ap- 
peared in the Ponziano Palace, and then Evangelists 
sickened with it ; and one morning Francesca was told 
that the son of her love was dying. No sooner had he 
felt the first symptoms of the plague, than he asked for 
a confessor. He never doubted that his last hour was 
come ; and she believed it too. Don Antonio hurried 
to the bed-side of the boy, who, after he had made his 
confession, sent for his mother, and taking' her hand in 
his, addressed her in some such words as follow : 

^^ Mother mine, T have often told you that God 
would not leave me with you long- ; that He will have 
me dwell with His angels. Jesus is my treasure, my 
hope. ;.nd my joy. I have ever lived with Him in 
thouglit, in desire, in unutterable longings. Every day 
I have said ^ Th}^ king'dom come ;' and now He calls me 
to it. There is a crown prepared for me, my beloved 
mother. The Lord is about to give it me, and we must 
part for awhile. But bless His name, oh my mother. 
Praise Him with me ; for He delivers me from all 
that your love dreaded for me upon earth. There is 
no sin, no sorrow, no sickness where I am going. No- 
thing but peace and joy and the sight of God in that 
better land where the blessed are expecting me. I must 
not see you weep. I will not have you grieve. Rejoice 
with yoiu' child ; for I see them even now, my holy 
advocates, St. Anthony and St. Yauplenus. TL-ey are 
coming to fetch me away. Dearest mother, I will pray 
for you. Evangelista will love you in heaven as he has 
loved you on earth, and you will come to him there." 

The dying boy tlien remained silent for a few 
moments. Then a sudden lio'ht illumined his face ; his 
features seemed transformed. Raising liis eyes with a 



IH. VI.] ST. FPANCES OF ROME. 51 

look of rapture, lie exclaimed, " Here are tlie angels 
coiPxe to take me away. Give me your blessing-, my 
mother. Do not be afraid. I shall never forg-et you. 
God bless vou and my dear father, and all who beions' 
to this house. Blessed be the name of the Lord." 
Then crossing* his little arms on his chest, he bowed 
down his head, a last smile passed over his face — '^ she 
had her meed, that smile in deatli," and his yoiing- spirit 
passed to tli^ regions of endless bliss. 

A toucliing- prodigy, well ada|)'-:^d to cheer the heart 
of our saint, took place that very day in a house ad- 
joining: her own. A little girl, who had been dang-er- 
ously ill for a long- time, and had completely lost the 
power of speech, at the very moment that Francesca's 
son had expired suddenly raised herselT in her bed, and 
exclaimed several times in a loud voice, and in a state 
of evident rapture, " See, see ! how beautilul ! J^ivan- 
g-elista Ponziano is g'oing* up into heaven, and two 
angels with him !" The mortal remains of the young- 
boy were deposited in the family vault in the church of 
Santa Cecilia, in Trastevere. A monument was erected 
there with the sim]->le inscription, " Here lies Evange- 
lista Ponziano ;" and a figure in stone, clothed in a lomr 
robe, was carved upon it. 

Francesca wept over the loss of her dearly-beloved 
child, but did not grieve for him. How could she have 
done so r* He was in bliss; and had only preceded her 
to that heaven for which she was day by day preparing*. 
Nor was it a time for the idle indulg-ence of sorrow. 
Want and sickness were turning- Rome into a charnel- 
house. Wild voices were screaming- for bread on every 
side. The streets were encumbered by the victims of 
contng-ious disease ; their frantic cries and piteous nioan- 
ings re-echoed in each piazza and under every portico. 
Old men were dying- surrounded by the corpses of their 
children; mothers pressed to their milkless bosoms 
their starving- intants. Others crept about bereft of 
all their family, and haimting- like ])ale g-hosts the 
scenes of their past happiness. No carriages shook the 



52 ST. FRANCES OF ROME, 

public ways. Tlie g;rass grew in the deserted streets; 
one mournfii] equipage alone slowly pursued its course 
through the doomed city, gathering' as it passed the 
dead at every door; and when the dreadful cargo was 
completed, bearing it away to the crowded cemetery. 
1 he ruin of private property, the general penury occa- 
sioned by the cruelties of Ladislas, and the sacking; of 
Home by his soldiers, had cut off almost all the re- 
sources of private charity. Anxiety for self, and the 
fear of contagion, had worked so deeply on the mind of 
the multitude, that many persons abandoned even their 
near relatives and fi'iends when they were attacked by 
the plague. Nothing but the charity which is of divine 
not of natural origin could meet such an emero-encv, or 
cope in any degree with tlie awful misery of those days. 
Francesca,, bereaved of every thing but her one little 
girl, and lodged with Vannozza and Rita in a corner of 
their dismantled house, had no longer at her command 
the resources she had formerly possessed for the relief 
of the poor. A little food fi^om their ruined estates was 
now and then supplied to these lonely women ; and they 
scarcely partook of it themselves, in order to bestow the 
greatest part on the sick and poor. There was a large 
hall in the lower part of th.e palace which had been less 
injured than any other portion of the building. Tt was 
at least a place of shelter against the inclemencies of 
the weather. The sisters converted it into a temporary 
hospital ; but of the shattered fiu'niture that lay scat- 
tered about the house, they contrived to make up beds 
and covering', and to prepare some clothing' for the 
wretched creatures they were about to receive. When 
all was ready, they went in search of the sufferers. If 
they found any too weak to walk, they carried them into 
the new asylum ; there they washed and dressed their 
putrefyino: sores, and by means which saints havei often 
employed, and which we could hardly bear even to think 
of^ they conquered in themselves all repugnance to sights 
and employments against which the senses and the flesh 
rise in rebellion. They prepared both medicme and 



CH, VI.] 9T. FRANCES OF ROME. 58 

food; watched the sick by day and by night ; laboured 
incessantly for their bodies, and still more for their 
Bouls. Many were those who recovered health throiig'h 
Francesca's care, and many more who were healed of 
the worst disease of the soul, — a hardened impenitence 
under the just judgment of God. She had the art of 
awakening- their fears, without driving- them to deir'pair; 
to make them look upon their suti'ering-s as a means of 
expiation (that gTeat secret of Catliolic consolation), 
and bring" them by deg'rees to repentance, to confession, 
CO the practice of long--forg-otten duties, and of those 
Christian virtues which her own example recommended 
to tlieir hearts. 

The example which the ruined and bereaved wives 
of thePonzianihad g-iven kindled a similar spirit among- 
the liitlierto apatlietic inhabitants of Rome. The mag-iS' 
trates of the city, struck at the sig-lit of such unparalleled 
exertions where the means were so slender, were rou?cd 
from their inaction, and in several p-arts of the city, 
especially in the pari-hes of St. Cecilia and of Santa 
Maria in Trastevere, hospitals and asylums were opened 
for the perisliing- multitudes. Often and often Francesca 
and Vannozza saw the morning" dawn, and not a bit of 
food of any descrijition did they possess for tliemselves 
or for tlieir inmates. They then went out to beg", as 
they had done before; but not merely as an act of 
humility, nor dressed as heretofore as became their rank, 
or in those places only where their names secured re- 
spect, and g-enerally a favourable answer; but in the 
g-arb of poverty, in the sj)ots where beg-g-ars were wont 
to cong-regate and the ricli to bestow alms, they took 
their stand, and gratefully received the broken bits that 
fell from the tables of the wenlthv. Each remnant of 
food, each rag" of clothing-, they broug'ht home with joy; 
and the mouldiest piece of bread out of tlieir bag" was 
set aside for their own nourishment, while the best was 
bestowed on their g-uests. 

In our own time, in our own rich and luxurious 
ifity, there is a count^rpaji; to these deeds of heroic 



54 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

charity. There are young* and well-educated women, 
vvlio in their liomes never lacked the necessaries or the 
comforts, nay perhaps the luxuries of life, who do the 
same; who receive into their abode the aged, the 
maimed, the crippled, and the deformed; lodging them 
in their best rooms, and themselves in cellars or garrets ; 
tending them as their servants, and feeding them as 
their motliers ; Legging for them from door to door the 
crumbs from the tables of the rich, and carrying along 
their basket, rejoicing when it is heavy, even though 
then' arms ache and their cheeks grow pale with the 
labour; like Francesca, feeding upon the remnants of 
the poor feast where the poor have sat before them. 

Francesca was insulted in her career of mere v through 
the streets of Rome, when civil war and anarchy were 
raging there in the wildest epoch of lawless strife and 
fiercest passion ; and the gentle sisters of the poor, the 
servants of the helpless, who have abandoned home and 
friends and comforts, and, above all, rcq'^cctahilify^ that 
idol of the English mind, that wretched counterfeit of 
virtue, for the love which they bear to Christ in His 
suffering members, have been insulted and beaten in 
the streets of London in the face of day, and only be- 
cause of the habit they wore, — the badge of no common 
vocation, — the nun's black dress, the livery of the poor. 
The parallel is consoling* to them, perhaps abo to us ; 
for is not Francesca now the cherished saint of Rome, 
the pride and the love of every Roman heart ? And 
may not the day come when our patient, heroic nuns 
will be looked upon as one of God's best blessings, in a 
city whei-e luxury runs riot on the one hand, and star- 
vation and misery reig-n on the other ? Will not the 
eye follow them with love, and many rise up to cal] 
them blessed ? Their course is like hers 5 may tlieu' end 
be the same ! 

The historians of our saint relate that on one of the 
occasions above alluded to, when her only resource was 
to beg for her sick charges, she went to the Basilica o\ 
San Lorenzo without the walls, where was the statiou 



ZJi. VI. J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 55 

of the day, and seated herself among*st the crowd ol 
begg'ars who, according- to custom, were tliere assem- 
oled. From the rising- of the sim to the )-ing-ing- of the 
vesper-bell, she sat there side by side with the lame, tlie 
deformed, and the blind. She held out her hand as 
they did, g'ladly enduring-, not the semblance, but the 
reality of that deep humiliation. When she had re- 
ceived enough wherewith to feed the poor at liome, 
she rose, and making- a sigTi to her companions, entered 
the old basihca, adored the Blessed Sacrament, and then 
walked back the long- and weary wny, blessing- God all 
tlie while, and rejoicing- that she was counted worthy 
to suffer for His dear sake. 

Those who are well acquainted with Rome, who 
have frequented the stations and love the basilicas, and 
especially that venerable old pile of San Lorenzo, with 
its upper and lower chapel, its mog-nificent columns, its 
beautiful pulpit, its wide portico with holf-eltaced fres- 
coes, and its rare mosaics — those })ainting's in stone 
which time itself cannot destroy ; tliose whose eyes 
have g-azed with delight on the glorious view as they 
approached it, and whose ears are familiar with the 
sound of the mendicant's voice, to whom the remem- 
brance of Francesca's story may have won, perchance, 
an additional dole, — can form to themselves with ease 
a picture of tlie scene: and when they visit it ag-ain in 
reality, may be tempted to look out for some saintly 
face, for some sweet, ang-el-like countenance, among-st 
the sordid and suffeiing- groups before tliem, and wtm- 
der if ever again such charity as Fi-nnce^cu's will ani- 
mate a woman's heart. Not long- ag-o, for a few short 
yeni-s, in Francesca's city, there was one wl;o hjide fair 
to emulate the virtues of the dear saint of Rome; but 
as she was rnpidly treading- in her foot-teps, and her 
name was becoming- every dny more dctir to the poo[)le 
amoi^g-st whom she dwelt, death snatc'hed her a^ay. 
Her memory remains, and the poor bless it even now. 
May God grant us such in our own huui ! Saints are 
sorely needed in these busy, restless, money-loving 



50 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

tiines of ours ; as mucli as, or more tlian, in the wild 
middle ag'es, or the troubled centuries that followed. 

Franeesca possessed a small vineynrd near the church 
of St. Paul without the walls ; and in that time of scarcity, 
when evei'v little resource had to be turned to account 
for the purposes of charity, she used to g'o there anv: 
g-ather up mto parcels and fag'g^ots the long- gTass and 
the dry branches of the vines. When she had collected 
a certain numl -"■«'' of these Dackets, she laid them on an 
ass, and went tliroug^h the town, stopping- at various 
poor dwelling's to distribute the fruits of her labours. 
On one of these occasions her donkey stumbled and fell, 
and the wood which he was carrying' rolled to a con- 
siderable distance. Franeesca was looking- about her in 
considerable embarrassment, not able to lift it up again, 
when a Roman nobleman, Paolo Lelli Petrucci, a friend 
of her husband's, chanced to pass by. Astonished at 
seeing- her in such a predicament, he hastened to her 
assistance ; and slie received it v/ith as much serenity 
and composure as if her occupation had been the most 
natural thing- in the world. 

By this time her virtues were" destined to receive a 
wonderful reward, and God bestowed upon her the g-ift 
of heoiing' to a miraculous degree. Many a sick person 
given over by the physicians was restored to health by 
the sing'le touch of her hands, or the prayers which she 
offered up in their behalf. More than sixty of these 
cases were well attested at the time of her canonisation. 
Franeesca was profoimdly sensible of the blessedness of 
this gift, and grateful for the power it afforded her of 
relieving the sufferings of others ; but at the same time 
her humility prompted her to conceal it as much as pos- 
sible. She endeavoured to do so by making up an oint- 
ment composed of oil and wax, v/liich she applied to the 
sick, whatever their disease might be, in the hope that 
their recovery would always be ascribed to its efficacy. 
But tliis holy subterfuge did not always succeed. The 
physicians analysed the ointment, and declared that it 
pi>sisessed in itself no healing qualities whatsoever. 



;H. VI.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 57 

One daj, upjii eateriiig- the Hospital of tlie Tras- 
tsvere, Francesca found a })oor mule- driver, v/ho Lad 
just been carried in, his foot liaving* been crushed bj 
the fall of a scythe ; it was in such a horrible and hope- 
less condition, tliat the surg-eons were about to ampu- 
tate the limb. Francesca, hearing* the cries of the poor 
wretch, bent over him, exhorting- him to patience; and 
promising" him a speed}^ relief, applied some of her oint- 
ment to his mano-led foot. The wounds instantlv closed, 
the pain vanished, and a short time after the mule- 
driver returned to his customary occupation. 

Some days afterwards, the two sisters were returning 
home from the basilica of St. John Lateran ; and passing 
b}'' the bridg-e of Santa Maria, now the Ponte Rotto, 
(the very ancient little church opposite to the Temple 
of Vesta), they saw extended on the pavement a man 
whose arm liad been severed by a sword-cut ; and unable 
to procm*e medical assistance, the poor wretch liad hiin 
there ever since in excruciating- tortures, which Ijad re- 
duced him to the last extremity. Francesca, full of 
confpassion for his miserable condition, carried liim with 
Vannozza's aid into her house, put him in a warm bath, 
cleansed his wound with the greatest care, and dressed 
it with her ointment. In a short time, and without an}^ 
medical assistance, the severed limb was restored to its 
usual position, and a complete recovery ensued. 

Tlie bowl in which San Francesca compounded this 
miraculous remedy is preserved in the convent of Tor 
di Specchi. During* the novena of the saint, when the 
doors are thrown o])en to crowds of devout persons, it 
stands on a table in the entrance-chamber, and is dailv 
filled by the nuns with fresh sweet-smelling- Howers— 
violets, primroses, anemones, and the like. The visitor 
may bear away with him some of these fragi-ant remem- 
hrnnces, and cherish them for her sake, the odour of 
whose virtues will last as long- as the seasons retiu-n, and 
llie spiing- brings back to om- gladdened sight tiiose 

** Sweot nurslings of the vernal skies, 
£&tbed with soft aii's and fed with dew." 



58 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

A still more wonderful miracle than these occiirreii 
about this time. Francesca and her faithful companion 
Vannozza had been visiting several churches in that 
par*-, of Rome which g-oes by the name of the Rioue de 
Monti. Passing* before a mean-looking' dwelling, they 
heard the most heart-rending sobs and cries. Stopping 
to inquire into the cause of this despair, they found a 
mother frantically weeping over the body of a child, 
who had died a few hours after its birth without having 
received baptism. Francesca gently reproved the woman 
for the delay which had endangered her son's salvation; 
then, taking' the little corpse into her arms, she uttei'ed 
a fervent prayer, and in a moment gave bacli the baby 
to its motiier, fully restored to life and health. She de- 
sired her to have it instantly baptised, and then made her 
escape, trusting that she should remain imdiscovered ; 
and indeed the woman v/liose child she had been the 
means of saving had never seen her, and wondered 
awhile if an angel had visited her in disguise ; but the 
description of her dress, and the miracle she had wocked, 
convinced all who heard of it that the visitor was no 
other than tlie wife of Lorenzo Ponziano. 

Compassionate to otliers, Francesca was mercilessly 
severe to herself; her austerities kept pace with her in- 
creasing sanctity. She was enabled to cany on a mode 
of life which must have ruined her health had it not been 
miraculously sustained. She slept only for two hours, 
and that on a narrow plank covered with nothing but 
a bit of rough carpet. The continual warfare which she 
wag'ed against her body brought it more and more into 
subjection to the spirit; and her senses were under such 
perfect control, that natural repugnances vanished, and 
the superior part of the soul reigned supremely over the 
meaner instincts and inclinations of the flesh. Such 
wra? her spiritual proficiency at the early age of twenty- 
oina 



H VII.] ST. FPANCE8 OF ROME 59 



(HiAPTER VII. 

•^ViKGEMSTA. APPEARS TO HIS MOTHER — AN ARCHANGEL IS ASSIGNED 
TO HER AS A VISIBLE GUARDIAN THROUGHC UT HER LIFE. 

EvANGELiSTA liad boen dead about a year. His image 
v.as ever present to his mothers lieart; she saw him in 
spirit at tiie feet of his Lord. Never, even in lier inmost 
soul, was she conscious of a wisli to recall him from the 
heaven he had reached to the eai-thly home which he 
had left desolate; but not for one moment could she 
forg-et the child of her love, or cease to invoke him as a 
C(^lest:al guardian akin to those who had so long liovered 
about her path. Her faith and resiaTiation were richly 
rewarded. Go.l gave her a sight of her child in heaven, 
and he was sent to announce to her one of the most 
extraordinary favours that was ever vouchsafed to a 
daughter of Adum. Francesca was praying one morn- 
ing in her oratory, wlen she became conscious that the 
little room was suddenly illuminated in a supernatural 
manner; a mysterious light shone on every side, and 
its radiance seemed to pervade not only her outward 
senses, but the inmost depths of her being^ and to awaken 
in her soul a strnnge sensation of joy. She raised her 
eyes, and Evan^elista stood before her; his fjimiliar 
aspect unc^ ange 1, but 1 is features transfigured and 
beaming wit'i iDeflP:d)le splendour. 

By his si'le wa=! another of the same size and height 
as himself, but more beautiiid still. Francesca's lips 
move, but in vain she seeks to articulate; the jov and 
the terror of tliat moment are too intense. Her son 
draws near to her, and with an angelic expression of 
love a-fid respect he bows down his' head and salutes 
her. Then the mother's feelings predominate ; she for- 
pfets every thing but his presence, and opens her armg 
to him ; \mt it is no earthly form that she encloses within 
them, and the glorif.ed bodv esc^ipes h.er grasp. And 



60 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

now si)'; gains coin'ag'e and addresses him, — in broken 
acce^its indeed, but with trembhno- Aag-erness. 

^^ Is it you, indeed ? (she cries) son of my heail; ! 
Whence do you come ? who are your companions ? 
what your abode ? Ang-el of God, hast thou thou^-nc 
of thy mother, of thy poor father ? Amidst the ^ojs 
of Paradise hast thou remembered earth and its suffer- 
ino-s?" 

c 

Evang-eHsta looked up to heaven with an imutter- 
able expression of peace and of joy ; and then, fixing 
his eyes on liis mother, he said, " My abode is with 
God ; my companions are the angels ; our sole occupa- 
tion the contemplation of the Divine perfections, — the 
endless source of all happiness. Eternally united with 
God, we have no will but His ; and our peace is as 
complete as His Beina' is infinite. He is Himself our 
joy, and that joy knows no limits. There are nine 
choirs of angels in heaven, and the higher orders of an- 
gelic spirits instruct in the Divine mysteries the less 
exalted intelligences. If you w'ish to know my place 
amongst them, my mother, learn that God, of His great 
g'oodness, has appointed it in the second choir of an- 
gels, and the first hierarchy of archangels. This my 
companion is higher than I am in rank, as he is more 
bright and fair in aspect. The Divine Majesty has 
assigned him to you as a g'uardian during the remainder 
of your earthly pilgi-image. Night and day by your 
side, he will assist you in every way. Never amidst 
the joys of Paradise have I for an instant forgotten 
you, or any of my loved ones on earth. I knew you 
were resio-ned ; but I also knew that voiu' heart would 
rejoice at beholding me once m.ore, and God has per- 
mitted that I should thus gladden your eyes. But I 
liave a message for you, my mother. God asks for 
Agnese : she may not tarry long with you ; her place 
is j'eady in the New^ Jerusalem. Be of good comfort, 
nay, rather rejoice that your children are safely housed 
in heaven." Evangelista communed a short wl.iile longei 
with liis mother, and then, bidding her tenderly fare- 



CH. VI I.J ST. FRANCES OP ROME. 61 

well, disappeared ; but the arcliang'el remained, and to 
the day of her death was ever present to her sight. 

She now understood the sense of the vision that 
had been sent her at the time of Ag'nese's birth. It 
was not for the cloister, but for heaven itself, that 
God claimed her youno- dauu-hter; and durino- the few 
remaining- days of her earthly life she waited upon her 
with a tenderness ming-led with veneration; looking 
upon her as one who scarcely belonged to the roug'h 
world she was so soon to leave. And the chosen child 
of God, the little maiden on whom the mystic dove had 
rested in its flight, soon drooped like a flower in an un- 
g-enial air, — soon gave her fond mother a last kiss and 
a last smile; and tlien her g-entle spirit went to seek 
her brother's kindred soul. They were buried tog-ether ; 
and tlie day was now come for Francesca, when eai-thly 
happiness altog-ethor vanishes, when life has its duties 
but has lost all its joys, — and then, what a lesson is in 
the story ! God's ang-el henceforward stands visibly by 
her side, and never leaves her ! 

When Evang-elista had parted from his mother, she 
had fallen prostrate on the ground, and blessed God for 
His g-reat mercy to her, the most worthless of sinnere, 
for such she deemed herself; and then, turning- to the 
ang-el, who stood near her, she implored him to be her 
gaiide and director ; to point out the way she was to 
tread ; to combat with her against Satan and his minis- 
ters ; and to teach lier every day to become more like 
in spirit to his and her Lord. When she left the ora- 
tory, the arcliang-el followed her, and, enveloped in a 
halo of liji'ht, remained always visible to her, thoug-h 
imperceptible to others. The radiance that surrounded 
him was so dazzling*, that she could seldom look upon 
him with a flxed g-aze. At nig-ht, and in the most pro- 
found darkness, she could always write and read by the 
lig-ht of that supernatural brig-htness. Sometimes, how- 
ever, when in prayer, or in conference with her director, 
or eng-ag-ed in strug-g'les with the Evil One, she wag 
enabled to see his form with perfect distinctness, and 



62 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

by Don Antonio's orders thus described him : — " His 
stature," she said, " is that of a child of about nine years 
old ; his aspect full of sweetness and majesty ; his eyes 
generally turned towards heaven : words cannot de- 
scribe the divine purity of that g'aze. His brow is 
always serene ; his glances kindle in th,e soul the flame 
of ardent devotion. When I look upon hirn, I under- 
stand the g'lory of the angelic nature, and the degraded 
condition of our own. He wears a long* shining robe, 
and over it a tunic, either as white as the lilies of the 
field, or of the colour of a red rose, or of the hue of 
the sky when it is most deeply blue. When he w^alks 
by my side, his feet are never soiled by the mud of the 
streets or the dust of the road." 

Francesca's conduct was now directed in the most 
infallible manner. By a special privilege, a companion 
had been assigned to her from the heavenly hierarchy; 
.and if she committed any faults, error could not now 
be pleaded in excuse. Her actions, her words, and her 
thoughts, were to be ever on a par with those of the 
sinless Being who was to be her guide throughout her 
earthly pilgrimage. It was an awful responsibility, a 
startling favour : but trusting in God's grace, though 
iiilly aware of her own weakness, she did not shrink 
from the task. Her greatest wish had always been to 
attain a perfect conformity with the Divine Will, and 
now this mysterious guidance furnished her with the 
means of knowing that Will in its minutest details. In 
her struggles with the Evil One, the archangel became 
her shield of defence ; the rays of light which darted 
fi'om his brow sent the demons howling' on their way. 
Thus protected, she feared neither the wiles nor the vio- 
lence of Satan. 

The presence of her heavenly guide was also to 
Francesca a mirror, in which she could see reflected 
every imperfection of her fallen, though to a great ex- 
tent renewed, nature. Much as she had discerned, even 
fi'om her earliest childhood, of the innate corruption of 
her heart, yet she often told her director, that it was 



CH. VI I.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 68 

only since slie liad been continually in the presence of 
an ang-elic companion that she had realised its amount. 
So that this divine favour, far from exalting- her in iier 
own eyes, served to maintain her fin the deepest humi- 
lity. When she committed the slig-htest fault, the 
ang-el seemed to disappear j and it was only after she had 
carefully examined her conscience, discovered her fail- 
ing-, lamented and humbly confessed it, tliat lie returned. 
On the other hand, when she was only disturbed by a 
doubt or a scruple, he was wont to bestou vn lier a kind 
look, whicli dissipated at once her uneasiness. When 
he spoke, she used to see his lips move; and a voice ol 
indescribable sweetness, but which seemed to come from 
a distance, yeaciied her ears. His guidance enlightened 
her Ciiiefiy wit'i reg-ard to the ditliculty she felt in sub- 
mitting- to certain cares and obligations which belonged 
to her position as mistress and head of a family. She 
was apt to imagine tliat t:ie hours thus employed were 
lost in God's sight; but her celestial guardian orrected 
her judgment on this point, and taug-ht her to discern 
the Divine will in every little irksome worldly duty, 
in every trifling contradiction, as well as in great trials 
and on important occasions. The light of the angelic 
presence gave her also a marvellous insight into the 
thoughts of others. Their sins, their errors, their evil 
inclinations, were supernatural ly revealed to her, and 
often caused her the keenest sorrow. She was enabled 
through this gift to bring* back to God many a wan- 
dering soul, to frustrate bad designs, and reconcile the 
most invetei-ate enemies. Francesca used sometimes 
to say to Don Antonio, when she requested his permis- 
sion for some additional austerities which he hesitated 
in granting, " Be not afraid, f ither ; the archangel will 
not allow me to proceed too far in that coui-se. He al- 
ways checks me when I am tempted to transgi^ess the 
bounds of prudence." And Don Antonio believed it, 
for his penitent alwaj's spoke the exact truth; ana m 
the miraculous manner in which she over and ovei 
%jp4in read his most secret thoughts, and manifested 



64 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

fchem to liim, he liad a pleclg-e of her veracity, as well 
Rs of her extraordinary sanctity. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

PRANCESCA'S illness and recovery — HER VISION OF HELL — RE- 
STORATION OF TRANQUILLITY IN ROME — RETURN OF FRANCESCa'S 
HUSBAND — HER POWER IN CONVERTING SINNERS. 

Four long years had elapsed, during- wliich Rome 
had been given up to dissensions and civil discord, 
while epidemics of various kinds were continually suc- 
ceeding- eacli other, and carrying- off many of its in- 
habitants. At the opening- of the year 1414, Sig'is- 
mund, king' of the Romans, and John XXIII., had 
agreed to convene a council at Constance; and the 
faithful were beg-inning- to cherish a liope that the 
schism which had so long- desolated the Chin-ch mig-ht 
be drawing- to a close. But this distant prospect of 
relief was not sufficient to counterbalance the actual 
suffering's of the moment ; and Frnncesca beheld with 
ever-incrensing- pain the amount of sin and of misery 
which filled the city of her birth. Her exertions, her 
labours, lipr bodily and mental trials, told at last upon 
her enfeebled frame, and about this time she fell dnn- 
g'orously ill. Almost all her acquaintances, and even 
her own family, fled from her, terrified, it would seem, 
by tlie idea of contag-ion. Vannozza alone remained^ 
and never left her bed-side. Some there were who 
came to visit, but not for the purpose of consoling- her ; 
on the contrary, it was to reproacli the dying- saint with 
what they called her absurd infatuation, which had in- 
troduced the plag-ue into her abode, and endangered her 
own life, for the sake of a set of worthless wretclies. 
She listened with her accustomed g-entleness, witliout 
attempting- to defend herself from tlie charge. Her soul 
was ])eri'ectlj at peace ; she could joyfully accept tha 



CH. VIII. J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 65 

death that new appeared inevitable; she conld thank 
God earnestly that the stnig-g'le was past, and Evan- 

f^'elista and Agnese safely lodg'ed in His arms. She 
ooked forward to a speedy reunion with tlie?e beloved 
ones 3 and marked the progress of her disease as the 
prisoner watches the process by which his chains are 
riven. A few words of love and faitli she now and then 
whispered to Vannozza ; at other times she remair.^d 
absorbed in divine contemplation. Overshadowed by 
an ang-el's wing-, cahn in the midst of severe s\iffering-, 
she performed her habitual devotions in as far as her 
streng'th permitted, and only g-ave up painful penances 
by the express order of her director. She who had heaJeu 
so many sick persons cared not to he lieaJed herself. 

It was not, however, God's will that she should die 
so soon. After passing* several months in prolonged 
sufferings, her health was suddenly restored. It was 
at tliis period of her life that she had the awftil and 
detailed visions of hell which have remained on record, 
and in which many salutary and fearful lessons are con- 
veyed. She was rapt in spirit, and carried throug-h 
the realms of endless woe. What was once chosen by 
the genius of man as a theme for its highest poetic effort 
— a journey through " the mournful city, amongst the 
lost people"* — was given to the saint in mystic ti-ance 
to accom})lish. An angel led her through these terrific 
scenes ; and an intuitive perception was given to her of 
the various sufferings of the condemned souls. So deep 
was the impression which this tremendous vision left 
on Francesca's soul, tliat never aftei-wards, as long as 
she lived, could she speak of it without tears and trem- 
bling; and she would often emphatically warn those 
persons who, trusting too implicitly to God's mercy, 
forgot in their reckless security tlie terrors of His 
justice. Some of the fresco paintings in the convent 
of Tor di Specchi represent this vision, and are visible 
to this day. 

* Per me si va nella citta dolcnte, 

Per me si va tra la pcrduta gtnte." — Dantk. 

F 



66 ST. FRAJJCES OF ROME. 

The Pope Jolm XXTII., and Sig-ismimd, king* ol 
tlie Romans, liad at last succeeded in fbi-ming- a league, 
vritli the object of delivering' Italy from the intolerable 
yoke of Ladislas, king of JN'aples. This tyrant had as- 
sembled a numerous army, and was marching- upon 
Bolog'na; but the measure of his iniquities was now 
full, and the hand of death arrested him on his vrnj. 
An illness, occasioned by his incredible excesses, seized 
him between Nurni and Perugia, and he died on the 
5th of August, 1414. The sovereign Pontiff, free from 
the terrors which this fierce usurper had inspired, and 
yielding- to the importunities of the cardinal, set out for 
Constance, where he was to meet the Emperor Sig'is- 
nnind. This same Council of Constance was eventually to 
be the means of making void his election, and of ending 
the great schism of the West, by placing- in the chaii 
of St. Peter the illustrious Pontiff Martin V. The death 
of Ladislas restored peace to the states of the Church, 
and in particular to the city of Eome. With the ces- 
sation of civil broils the famine disappeared ; and with 
it the grievous pestilence that had so long accompanied 
it. Tiie fields were cultivated once more ; the peasants 
gradually returned to their farms; the flocks grazed 
unmolested in the green pastures of the Campagna; 
and the whilom deserted provinces smiled again under 
the influence of returning prosperity. 

The suflering's of the Ponziani were ako at an end. 
They were recalled from banishment, and their property 
was restoi-ed. Loi-enzo and his son — now his only son — 
Baptistn. returned to their home, and to the wife and 
mother they had so longed to behold again. But mixed 
with sorrow was the cup of joy which that hour seemed 
to offer. Lorenzo, who a few years back was in the 
prime of life — strong, healthy, and energetic, — he who 
had m.et e-^^evy foe and every trial without shrinking-, 
was now broken by long- sufferings : ag-ed more through 
exile and grief than through years. We are told that 
when he entered his palace and looked upon his wife^ 
deep so])s shook his breast, and he burst into an agony 



CH. VIII.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. Q't 

of tears. Tlie two Ijeautiftil children wliicli lie had 
left h}' her side, where were tliej? Gone! never tc 
g-ladden his eves again, or make music in his home by 
the sound of their sweet voices. And Francesca herself, 
pale witlj recent ilhiess, spent witli ceaseless labours, 
siie stood belbre him the j)erfect picture of a woman 
and a saint, with the divine expression of her beloved 
face unc}iang-ed; but how changed in form, in bloom^ 
in brightness, in every thing but that beauty whicL" 
holiness gives and time cannot efface ! 

Long and bitterl}' lie wept, and Francesca gentlj 
consoled him. SJie told him how Evangelista had ap- 
peared to her ; how tlieir cliildren were only gone before 
them, companions now of those angels they had so 
resembled upon eartli. Slie wliispered to him that one oi 
these was ever at lier side ; and wlien he looked upon 
her, and remembered all slie had been to him, doubtless 
he found it easy to believe. Taught b}' adversity, more 
than ever inHuenced by his admirable wife, Lorenzo 
henceforward ndo})ted a more thorougldy Christian 
Diode of life than he had hitiierto followed. IVot con- 
tent with praising her virtues, he sou^-ht to imitate 
them, and practised all the duties of religion with the 
utmost strictness. On one })oint alone his conduct was 
inconsistent with the jjrinciples lie pfofessed, and this 
was, while it lasted, a source of keen anxiety to Fran- 
cesca. There was a Roman nobleman who, several 
^ ears before, had g*rievously offended the lord of Pon- 
ziano, anu with whom he absohitel}' refused to Ije re- 
conciled. This had formerlv been, iind was aa'ain aftej^ 
his return, an occasion of scandal to many. The more 
eminent were his virtues, the hiu'her his reliu'ious pro- 
tession, the more glaring ajipeared such an evident in- 
consistency. Fi-ancesca herself was blamed for it; and 
people used to wonder that she who was so often suc- 
cessful in reconciling strangers and promoting peace in 
families, had not the power of allaying an enmity dis- 
creditable to her husband and at variance with the 
dictates of religion. A.t last, however, by dint of 



68 ftr. FRANCES OF ROME. 

patience and gentleness, slie accomplished what had 
seemed for a long- time a hopeless endeavom\ The 
hearts of both parties were touched with remorse. 
Lorenzo, who Vv^as the ag"gTieved party, granted his 
enemy a full and free pardon, and a perfect reconcilia- 
tion ensued. This triumph over himself on the one 
point where the stubborn natural will had so long' held 
out, resulted, as is almost always the case, in a rapid 
advance towards perfection. 

Lorenzo, from this time forth, withdrew more and 
more from public life, refused those posts of honour and 
of responsibility which a friendly g-overnment pressed 
upon him, and surrendered himself almost entirely to 
the duties and exercises of a strictly religious life. In 
his conversations with his v/ife, he daily gained a deeper 
insight into the secrets of the spiritual life. Far from 
complaining* of the amount of money which she spent 
m charity, of the existence of an hospital within the 
walls of his palace, o^'her various and laborious works 
of mercy, or of theleng^ii of time which she spent in 
prayer, he renewed his request that she would, in every 
respect, follow what seemed to her the will of God, and 
the most perfect manner of life. Francesca gratefully 
complied with this his desire. She watched more 
strictly than ever over the conduct of those committed 
Co her charge, and recommended to them by her ex- 
ample even more than by her precepts an exact observ- 
ance of tho commandments of God and of the Church. 
What m.oney was exclusively her own, she regidarly 
divided into two parts : with one-half she bought food 
for the poor, with the other clothing and medicine for 
the sick. Her own dress cost her next to nothing ; she 
continued to wear her old green gown patched-up with 
any odd bits of cloth that fell in her way. Almost 
every day she went to her vineyard and gathered wood 
for the faggots which she gave away on her return. 
Her relations, her friends, and even her servants, were 
annoyed at her employing* herself in such labour, and 
bitterly comialaiiied of the humiliation it occasicaed 



CH. VIII.] Si. FIIANCES OF ROME. 69 

them to meet her so meanly dressed and so meanly 
occu{3ied. Lorenzo did not share those feeling's; on 
the contrary, he used to look upon her on these occa- 
sions with an increase of affection and veneration ; and 
suppoi-ted by his approval, by the approbation of her 
director, and the dictates of her own conscience, she 
car«d Mttle for the comments of otliers. 

The kind of apostolate which by this time she ex- 
ercised in Rome was very remarkaljle ; and her power 
over men's minds and hearts scarcely short of miracu- 
lous. There was a STibduing- charm, an irresistible in- 
fluence in her words and in her manner, which told on 
every variety of pei'sons. The expression of her coun- 
tenance, the tones of her voice, her mere presence, 
worked wonders in effecting- conversions, and in ani- 
mating' to virtue those whom she approached. Ilei 
g'ift of reading- the thoug'lits of othei-s, which had in- 
creased ever since the archan<>-el liad become lier com- 
panion, enabled her in several instances to bring- about 
conversions, several of which are related at leng-th by 
her biog-raphers. 

Amonjist them was tliat of a voun"' woman who 
was lying* clang-erously ill in one of the hospitals of the 
city. Francesca had been distributing- food to the sick, 
and was tlien attend ini;' the death-bed of a youno* man, 
who was about to receive the last Sacraments, when a 
piercing' cry from one of the adjoJhing- wards readied 
her ears. She hastened to the spot, and found a young 
woman stretched on one of the narrow beds, and dying 
in all tlie ag'onies of despair. No sooner Inid slie looked 
upon the poor creature than her dreadful history was 
supernaturally revealed to her. Slie had some time 
before had an illeg-itimate cliiUl, and, under the pressure 
of shame and terror, liad destro^-ed it. The conscious- 
ness of this crime was driving- her to despair, and she 
had not courag-e to confess it. But now words were 
whispered in lier ear, which went straight to the point 
on which the awful sti-uggle turned; which spoke »)f 
he horrible misery of dying impenitent and unabsolved. 



rO ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

and of the boundless mercy which has provided a re- 
medy for the deepest stains of sin, the blood of Jesus 
applied to the soul by the g-race of the Sacrament. For 
a long- time the poor creature resisted, turned her head 
away, and refiised to be comforted. But when Fran- 
cesca, in still more pressing- terms, alluded to the 
intolerable burden of an unacknowledg'ed crime, of the 
life-giving' humiliation of a sincere confession, of the 
dire confasion of an unforgiven soul on the day of 
Judgment ; of the love of Jesus, of the tenderness of 
]\rar3', of the indulg-ence of the Church, the sweetness 
of pardon, the peace of reconciliation; then the stubborn 
heart yielded, the seared spirit was softened. Bursting 
into tears, the dying* sufferer exclaimed, " A priest ! a 
priest!" and one was at hand at the first call of con- 
trition, and answered that expiring cry, as Matthew dia 
the royal prophet's confession : " The Lord forgives; 
thou shalt not perish." And shortly after in Fran- 
cesca's arms the pardoned sinner breathed her last. 

About the same time, Francesca was the means of 
converting- one who would doubtless have turned with 
contempt from the poor criminal on the hospital-bed 
v/ith horror, from the guilty destroyer of her own child, 
and deemed that to breathe the same air as such a 
wretch was in itself contamination. And yet, in God's 
right, Gentilezza may have been as, or perhaps more 
guilty than the sofely-tempted, unprotected, miserable 
being, who in weakness first, and then in terror, almost 
in madness, had rushed into crime ; for she was rich, 
noble, and beautiful; had been nursed in pomp and 
pleasure; hunger had never tempted, and scorn never 
pursued her. Her life had been one continued scene of 
amusement and of splendour. She cared for nothing 
but the homage of men, the incense of admiration, the 
intoxication of pleasure. There was not a duty that she 
did not neglect, nor one sacred obligation that she felt 
berself boimd to observe. We are not told that she 
committed what men call crimes; but her husband she 
treated w'^'.h open contempt, and ridiculed him on ac- 



CH. VIII.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME, 71 

count of his attacliment to relig-ious duties; her cliil- 
dren she altogether neg-lected, and aljandoned them to 
the care of servants, while her days and nig-lits were 
devoted to amusements and frivolities of every descrip- 
tion. Several of the Roman ladies, who used to be liet 
companions, had been induced, by Fmncesca's example 
and exhortation, to g-ive up a life of dissipation, und 
adopt one better befitting- the Christian profession ; but 
Gentilezza laug-hed at her and at tliem, and used to sa}*, 
witli insolent derision, that she had no vocation for 
wearing" rags and carrying- fag-g-ots. Perfectly indif- 
ferent to tlie ridicule with which she sought to cover 
her, Francesca praj^ed incessantly for the vain and 
hauglity woman, who seemed beyond the reach of re- 
proach or of persuasion. One day, liowever, moved by 
a proplietic impulse, she thus addressed her : " You 
scorn my warnings, Gentilezza ; you laugh at the ad- 
vice of your confessor. But remember that God is 
powerful, and not to be mocked with impunity. The 
day is at hand when you will rue the stubbornness of 
your heart. " 

A few days afterwards, as Gentilezza, who was with 
child at the time, was descending tlie stairs of lier 
pnhice, her foot slipped, and she fell headlong to the 
bottom. Iler servants raised her in their arms, and 
found her all but dead. The physicians, wlio were 
summoned in haste, judged unfavourably of her case, 
and pronounced that her child must infallibly have been 
killed by the fall. The wretched woman bm-st into teai-s, 
but it was not so much lier own danger, or the death 
of her infant which she deplored, as the ruin of her 
beauty, which had been her pride and her snare. Her 
features had been so injured by this accident, that her 
face was com[)letely disfigured, and with rebellious anger 
>he wept over her lost loveliness. Francesca, upon hear- 
mg of this event, hurried to the spot, and nursed th^ 
suffering woman with the tenderest care. With tlie 
utmost kindness she reminded her of the duties she had 
neglected, and of the means of grace she had despised, 



T2 ST. FRA.VCES OF ROME. 

and exliorted her to recog-nise the hand of a merciful 
God in the chastisement she had received. She spoke 
to her of her husband, of her chikiren^ of the true and 
sweet vocations of a wife and a mother, of the transi- 
tory nature of all eartlily enjoyments; and into the heart 
subdued by pain and disappointment lier words made 
then* way. It was as if scales had fallen from the eyes 
of the sufferer. " God is just/' she exclaimed at last -, 
•'I deserved even a greater punishment than I have 
met With. Pray for me, Francesca Ponziano ; pray for 
me; and oh, hear me promise, that if my life is sjjared, I 
will give up all my evil ways, and henceforward become 
a Christian wife and a Christian mother; so help me 
God, whom I have so g-rievously offended!" Francesca 
bent over her and embraced her : she saw that her re- 
pentance was sincere, and bade her be of g-ood comfort, 
and that her penitence would be accepted. And so it 
turned out; for Gentilezza was safely delivered of a 
healthy little girl, and in time recovered not only her 
health but tlie beauty which she had once turned to 
such bad account; and, while faithful to her promise, 
she ceased to abuse the gifts of God, and devoted her- 
self to the diligent performance of her duties, became a 
chosen friend of Francesca' s, and one of the most pious 
and exemplary matrons in Rome. 

Among the relatives of the saint, there was a yoimg 
man whose name was Giovanni Antonio Loi-enzi, wdiose 
temper was fierce and violent in the extreme. Having 
been, as he considered, insulted by another Eoman 
nobleman, he vowed that he would take his life, and 
resolved to have him assassinated. Francesca's angel 
rerealed to her his criminal design, which was as yet 
confined to his own breast. She instantly sent for the 
object of his enmity, and charged him, as he valued his 
existence, not to leave his own house for a certain number 
of days ; and without informing him of the reason, ob- 
tained his promise to that effect. In the mean time 
she disclosed to Lorenzi her knowledge of his guilt'V 
pKjject, and induced him to abandon all idea of revenge. 



CH.VIII.J ST. FRANCES OF HOME. 73 

Her induence over Ang'elo Savelli, on a similar oc> 
casion, was still more remarkable. He had quarrelled 
with a young* man of his acquaintance, and a duel had 
ensued, in which he had been severely wounded. His 
ang-er was excessive 5 he did nothing- but threaten and 
curse his adversary. Neither his own family nor tliat 
of his foe could succeed in appeasing- him, and he was 
dying- with veng-eance in his heart, and accents of rage 
on his lips. Francesca was informed of his condition, 
and went straig-htway to his bed-side. She had no 
sooner uttered a few words, than he bade her bring- his 
-lemy to him, that he mig-ht forg-ive and embrace him. 
' f e was himself astonished at tlie chan<>'e thus wrouo"ht 
Oy her presence, and declared that the Holy Spirit had 
moved hijn by her means. He received the last Sacra- 
ment with tlie best dispositions, and died soon after, liill 
of peace and hope, and repeatedly assured his family 
that God, in mercy to his soul, had sent the wife of 
Ponziano to save him from the miu which was so ne-arly 
overtaking- him. 

One more instance among-st many of Francesca's 
powers of persuasion may be adduced, in addition to the 
preceding-. She was, as we have seen, a constant attend- 
ant at the church of Santa Maria Nuova, where lier con- 
fessor, Don Antonio Savello officiated. It so hrippened 
that one of the monks of his order, Don Ii)polito, who 
subsequently played a part in the histoiy of tlie saint, 
and who had been now residing- ten years in tlie convent, 
was about this time appointed to the office of sacristnn, 
althoug-h he had previously filled with distinction divere 
important functions in the monastery. He had ac- 
cepted this a})pointment out of obedience and humility 
of spirit; but after a while the devil sorely temj)ted 
him to regret having- done so; to repine at what he 
beg-an to consider as an act of tpanny and injustice; 
and these reflections, g-radually indulged in, made sad 
havoc of his peace of mind. An oppressive melancholy 
beset him; and at last he came to the resolution of 
abandming- his habit and the monasttry. if the oh- 



74 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

noxious appointment were not cancelled. But one day 
that he had been invoking- Mary, our Lady of good 
counsel, he felt a sudden inspiration to g'o and commu- 
nicate to Francesca his discontent, his restlessness, and 
the resolution he had formed. She listened attentively 
to his statement, and then quietly addressed to him 
some questions which placed the subject in its true 
lig'ht. She asked him with what purpose he had en- 
tered the religious state; whem he had intended to serve 
in doing' so; which he preferred, the God who descends 
and dwells on the altar, or the servants who wait upon 
Him elsewhere? Which was the hig-hest post, that 
of watching" over the sanctuary, in company with the 
ang-els, or of ministering- to men, however holy and 
eminent they might be, as would be his lot in another 
office ? The wisdom and simplicity of this answer went 
straight to Don Ippolito's heai-t. He instantly ac- 
quiesced in its justice, and went directly to confession. 
With earnest benevolence he betook himself to the 
duties of his at once humble and exalted office, edified 
all his brethren by his unfeigned humility, and became 
m time the model of his order. He was aftei-wards 
successively named sub-prior, and then prior of the mon- 
astery of Santa Maria Nuova; and was later the asso- 
ciate and support of Francesca in the foundation of her 
congregation of the Noble Oblates of Tor di Specchi. 



CHAPTER IX. 

FEESH SUPERNATURAL EVENTS IN FRANCESCA's HISTORY — HER 
OBEDIENCE TO HER HUSBAND AND TO HER CONFESSOR RE- 
WARDED BY TWO MIRACLES — MARRIAGE OF HER SON, AND 
ILL CONDUCT OF HIS WIFE— HER CONVERSION THROUGH 
FRANCESCa's PRAYERS — FRESH MIRACLES WORKED BY 
FRANCESCA. 

Francesca's obedience to her director in spii-itual 
matters, and to her husband in other respects, conti- 
nued tx) be exemplary* In both instances she received 



en. IX.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 76 

a miiaculous proof that God regarded with especial 
favour that humble submission of spirit in one whom 
He endowed with such marvellous gifts. The story of 
these miracles mio-ht well furnish a subject to a paintei 
or a poet. One day that slie and Yannozza hacl asked 

fiermission to visit the shrine of Santa Croce in Gierusa- 
emme, Don Antonio had given them leave to do so; on 
condition that, as an exercise of self-control, and a test 
of their obedience, the}'' should walk there and back 
without once raising- their eyes to look about them. 
He wished them to employ all the time of that long- 
walk in mental prayer and meditation. They proceeded 
on their way without interruption, till, on a})proacliing" 
the hospital adjoining- the church of St. John of La- 
ieran, a sudden rush of people overtook them, and 
rounds of terror were heard on every side. A bull had 
escaped from its leaders, and driven frantic by the cries 
of the multitude, it was dasliing- savagely along. Fran- 
cesca and Vannozza stood directly in his path. Loud 
shouts warned them to get out of the way; but, faith- 
ful to the obedience they had received, and probably 
inwardly assured that they would be protected against 
the dano-er, whatever it was, they advanced calm and 
unmoved with their eyes fixed on the g-round. The 
bystanders, who were cowering- at a distance, shud- 
dered; for it seemed that the next moment must see 
them under the feet of the bellowing animal. Tint no; 
the same influence that tamed the lions in Daniel's den 
was at work with the savage beast. At sight of the two 
women, it suddenh^ stopped in its course, became ])er- 
fectly tranquil, stood still while they passed, and then 
resumed its flight; while they proceeded to the church 
without having experienced the slightest emotion of 
fear. There is an ancient saying, that a wild beast is 
appeased by the sight of a maiden in her purity; and 
there can be no doubt that those saints who have re- 
gained in some measure, by mortification, penance, and 
heroic virtue, the purity of man's original nature, have 
at the same time recovered, in a ceitain degree, the 



76 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

fower wliicli Adam possessed over the animal creation, 
t is a fact of frequent occurrence in tlieir liveS; that 
mysterious homage paid to tliem by the wild inhabit- 
ants of the desertj or the g'entle denizens of the gi-ave. 
St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Rose of Lima, among-st 
others^ were singularly endowed with ,this gift. Thez'e 
ai-e few m-ore touching- thoughts, or any better calcu- 
lated to make us understand the true character of sane- 
tit y, and the gradual restoration of a fallen nature to 
one akin to tiiat of the angels. 

The other miracle was one attested by Vannozza, who 
witnessed its occurrence. Francesca devoted all her lei- 
sure moments to prayer, but never allowed her delight 
in spiritual exercises to interfere with her duty as a wife. 
Her attention to Lorenzo's slio'htest wants and wishes 
was unceasing. She never complained of any amount 
of interruption or of trouble which his claims upon her 
time might occasion. One day that she was reciting in 
her room the office of the Blessed Virgin, he sent for 
her. Instantly rising from her knees, she obeyed his 
summons. When she had ])erform.ed the triiiiDg ser- 
vice he required, she returned to her prayers. Four 
successive times, for the most insignificant of purposes, 
she was sent for : each time, with unwearied good hu- 
mour, she complied, and resumed her devotions without 
a shadow of discontent or annoyance. On resuming her 
book the last time that this occurred, great was her as- 
tonishment in finding the antiphon, which she had fom* 
times begun and four times left unfinished, written in 
letters of gold. Vannozza, who was present, witnessed 
the miracle ; and the archnngel whispered to Francesca, 
'' Thus the Lord rewards the virtue of obedience."" The 
gilded letters remained in the book to the day of her 
death. 

Her prayers were frequent ; her fervour in pro- 
portion. Beginning with the '' Our Father" and the 
"■ Hail Mary," it was her practice to recite them slowly, 
and *o ponder on each word as she pronounced it. The 
OiHee of the Blessed Virgin she repeated daily at the 



CH. IX. I ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 77 

appointed liours, and almost always on her knees ; the 
Jiosary also, and a a-reat number of psalms besides, as 
well as various devotions for the holy souls in pur- 
g'atorj. As to mental prayer, her whole life was one 
continued orison; ever in communion with God, she 
never lost the sense of His presence. From this time 
forward (she was now tliirty-two years old), her life 
gTew more and more supernatural. The mystical won- 
ders tliat have manifested themselves in so many saints 
were dis})layed in her to an eminent degree. When 
she approached the tribunal of penance, but, above all, 
in g'oiiig" to communion, her body sometimes emitted a 
fragTant odour, and a halo of lig-ht surrounded her 
head. Often and often, after receiving- the Bread of 
Life, she fell into a long- ecstasy, and for hours re- 
mained motionless, and wrapt up in silent contempla- 
tion, unable to move from the s})ot but at the command 
of her director ; the virtue of obedience overcoming- even 
the mystical insensibility to all outward objects. Her 
intimate intercourse with heaven during- those moments j 
the pro})liecies which she uttered ; the manner in which 
distant and future occurrences were made mr.nifest to 
her spiritual perceptions, testified to the supeniatural 
nature of these ecstasies. An intimate union established 
itself between her and the oljjects of her incessant con- 
templation. When she meditated on the glorious mys- 
teries, on the triumphs of Mary, or the bliss of the 
ang-elic spirits, an intense joy beamed in her face, and 
pervaded her whole person. When, on the other hand, 
she mused on the Passion of oiu- Lord, or on the sor- 
rows of His Mother, the whole expression of her face 
was changed, and bore the impress of an unutterable 
woe ; and even ])y physical pains she partook in a niea- 
sure of the sulrering-s of her God. The anxious tor- 
ments of the Passion were rehearsed as it were in her 
body ; and ei-e long- a wound in her side manifested one 
of the most astonishing- but indubitabl} establislied in- 
stances of the real though mystical share which some 
of the saints have had in the life-giving* agonies of the 



78 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

Lor«i. None but Yannozza, who used to dress tliat 
touclimg' and awftil wound, and Don Antonio, to whom 
she revealed it in confession, were acquainted with this 
extraordinaiy token of union between the crucified 
liedeemer and His favoured servant. She suffered in- 
tense pain while it lasted, but it was a joyful siiffering-. 
Love made it precious to her. She had desired to drink 
of His cup, and be baptised with His baptism ; and He 
destined her one day to sit at His side and share His 
g-lory. She had drunk to the dregs the cup of earthly 
sorrow ; the anguish of bereavement, the desolation of 
loneliness, the torments of fear, the pangs of sickness 
and poverty. And now the most mysterious sufferings 
fell to her lot, of a nature too sacred for common men- 
tion, for man's investigation, but not the less real and 
true than the others. The relief was as miraculous as 
ihe infliction. In a vision she saw herself transpoilied 
_-nto the cave of Bethlehem, and into the presence of 
the Infant Jesus and of His Mother. With a sweet 
smile, the Blessed Virgin bade Francesca discover the 
wound which love had made, and then with water that 
flowed from the rock, she washed her side, and dis- 
missed her. When her ecstasy was over, she found 
that the mu'aculous wound was perfectly healed. 

It was at this time that she predicted in the most 
positive manner, and when appearances were all against 
such a result, that the papal schism was about to end. 
The Council of Constance was sitting-, and new diflicul- 
ties and conflicts continually arose. War was on the 
point of bursting' out again, and every body trembhng 
at the thought of ft-esh disasters. Contrary, however^ 
to all expectations, the last weeks of the year 141.5 saw 
the conclusion of the schism. The assembled fathers, 
with a courage that none had foreseen, and indifferent 
to the threats of Frederick of Austria on the one side, 
and of the Kmg of France on the other, who were each 
advocating the cause of an anti-pope, — the former sup- 
porting John XXIII., the latter Benedict XIII., — they 
deposed these two usurpers, obliged Gregory XII. U 



CH. IX.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. /b 

renounce his pretensions also, and on tlie lltli of No- 
vember unanimously elected Otto Colonna, Cardinal 
Deacon of St. George in Velabro, who took the name 
of Martin V. ; and by his virtues and his talents suc- 
ceeded in restoring- peace to Rome itself, and to the 
whole Catholic world. It was g-enemlly supposed, even 
during- her lifetime, and much more after her death, 
that Francesca's prayers, her tears and her suffering's, 
had accelerated that blessed event, and drawn down the 
mercy of God on His afflicted Church. 

The son of Lorenzo and Francesca, Baptista Ponziano, 
had now arrived at the ag-e of eig-hteen, and was consi- 
dered the most promising- of the young- Roman noljlemen. 
The excellent education he had received was bearing- 
its fi'uits. In appearance and in manners, in talents 
and in character, he was equally disting-uished. Lorenzo, 
anxious to perpetuate his family, and secure heirs to his 
larg-e possessions, pressed his son to marry. It was 
with the gTeatest satisfiiction that Francesca seconded 
his wishes. She long-ed to g-ive up to a daughter-in- 
law the manag-ement of domestic affairs, and to be more 
fi*ee to devote her time to reli^-ious and charitable em- 
ployments. The young- person on whom tlie choice of 
Baptista and of his parents fell was Mobilia, a maiden 
of whom it is recorded that she was of no1)le birth and 
of sino-iilar beauty, but her familv name is not men- 
fcioned. Immediately upon her marriag-e, according- to 
the continental custom of the time, tlie bride came to 
reside under the same roof as her father and mother-in- 
law. She was received as a beloved daug-hter by Fran- 
cesca and Vannozza; but she neither returned their af- 
fection nor appeared sensible of their kindness. Broug-lit 
up by an excellent mother in a very strict manner and 
entire seclusion, her head was completely turned at 
suddenly finding- herself her own misti-ess : adored by 
her husband, furnished with the most ample means of 
2'ratifying- all her fancies, she was bent on making- up 
for the somewhat austere life she had led as a young 
girl, and g-ave no thought to any thing but her beauty^ 



80 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

her dress, and all the amusements within lier reacli. 
Wholly inexperienced, she declined to ask op to receive 
advice, and chose in every respect to he guided hy her 
inclinations alone. Imperious with her equals, hang-lity 
with her superiors, she gave herself all the airs ima- 
g'inahle, and treated her mother-in-law with the most 
supreme contempt, hardly paying- her moi-e attention 
than if she had been the lowest menial in tiie house. 
In tlie gay societies which she frequented, it Vv'as her 
favourite amusement to turn Francesca into ridicule, to 
mimic her manners and her style of conversation ; and 
she often declared herself perfectly ashamed of being 
related to a person so totally ignorant of the ways of 
the world. ^' How can one feel any respect," she used 
to ask, " for a person who thinks of notliing but the 
poor, dresses as one of them, and goes about the streets 
carrying bread, wood, and old clothes ?" It Vv'as not 
that Mobilia's disposition was absolutely bad ; on the 
contrary, she was naturally sweet-tempered; but never 
having been left before to her own manag*ement, and 
tastino- for the first time the exciting- pleasures of the 
world, the contrast which her mother-in-law's appear- 
ance, manners, and whole mode of life presented to that 
which seemed to her so attractive, irritated her beyond 
measure, till at last her dislike amounted to aversion; 
she could hardly endure Francesca in her sight. Vain 
were the remonstrances of her husband and of her 
father-in-law, vain their entreaties and their reproofs; 
-ana vailing* also proved the interference of some mutual 
fi-iends, wlio sought to convince her of the culpability of 
her conduct, and to persuade her that she was bound to 
show Baptista's mother at least the attentions of ordi- 
nary civility. The headstrong young woman persisted 
in exhibiting the utmost contempt for her. The Saint 
endured all her frowardness with unvarying* gentleness 
and patience, never uttering* a sharp or unkind word in 
return, and spending long hours in prayer that the heart 
so closed against her, and so given up to the world, might 
through God's mercy be softened and changed. 



CII. IX.] STv FRANCES OF ROME. 81 

One day, when she was renewing- these petitions with 
more than common fervour, she heard the following 
words distinctly pronounced in her hearing-: "Why 
do you g-rieve, Francesca t and why is your soul dis- 
quieted i* Nothing- takes place witliout My permission, 
and all thing-s work togetlier for the good of those who 
love Me." And her trial was even then ahout to end. 
It happened a few days afterwards, when all tlie inha- 
bitants of the palace were assemhled round the fire in 
the hall (for it was in the winter season), that Mobilia 
beg-an as usual to attack her mother-in-law, and to turn 
her mode of life into ridicule, with even gTcater bitter- 
ness than usual ; and turning- to her husband and to his 
father, she exclaimed impatiently that she could not 
mderstand liow they allowed her to follow her mean 
and degTading- pursuits, to mix with tlie refuse of the 
rabble, and draw down upon tlie whole family not only 
merited disg-race, but intolerable inconveniences. She 
was g'oing- on in this way, and speaking- with gTeat 
violence, when all of a sudden she turned as pale as 
death, a fit of trembling came over her, and in a 
moment she fell back senseless. Francesca and Van- 
nozza carried her to her bed, where, recovering- her 
consciousness, she was seized with moiL^t acute pains. 
The intensity of her sufferings drew from her the most 
piteous cries. Then her conscience was roused ; then, 
as if suddenly awakened to a sense of the enormity of 
her conduct, with a faltering* voice she murmured : 
" My j)ride ! my dreadfid pride ! " Francesca bent 
over her g-ently, entreated her to bear her suffering's 
patiently, assured her they would soon subside. Then 
Mobilia burst into an ag-ony of tears, and exclaimed 
before all the bystanders, "They will sidjside, my dear 
mutlier, if you ask it of God ; but I have deserved 
more, much more, by my horrible behaviour to you. 
Forg-i ve me, dear mother ; pray for me. I acknowledge 
my fault. Hencefoi-ward, if God spares my life, 3'our 
dauo-hter will be to vou the most lovina*, the most obe« 
(lient of handmaids. Take me in your arms, mothej; 

a 



82 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

and l)less your cliild." Francesca pressed to her bosom 
the beautiful voun<;' creature in whom such a chano-e 
had been suddenly wrought, and while she fervently 
blessed her, Mobilia felt that all her pains had left her. 
From that day forward the whole tone of her mind 
was altered ; her conversion was complete. Francesca 
became to her an object of the most affectionate vene- 
ration.; she consulted her about all her actions, and 
communicated to her hei* most secret thoug'hts. Utterly 
<les})isin^" the vanities of the world which had led her 
astray, she adopted her views and opinions, and se^ 
entirely at naug'ht the seductions of worldly gTandeur. 
The sanctity of Francesca was now so evident to her 
tliat she begim to watch her actions, her words, every 
detail of her life, with a mixture of awe and of interest, 
and kept a record in writing- of all that she observed, 
and of tlie miraculous occurrences which were so often 
taking place through her instrumentality, as well as in 
her own ])erson. The forementioned particulars she 
attested ujion oath after the Saint's death, when the 
depositions were taken which served at a later period 
for the ])rocess of her cnnonisntion. The most intimate 
friendship established itself between Baptista's wife and 
his mother; nothing could exceed the devoted and af- 
fectionate reverence of the one, or the tenderness witli 
which it was repaid by the other. Francesca, with 
the most watcliful love, attended to Mobilia's slightest 
wants or wislies; nursed her assiduously in her confine- 
ments, and bestowed u])on her grandchildren the same 
cares that she had lavislied on lier own cliildren. It 
w:<s a great relief to her tliat Mobilia, who was now 
only occupi(Hi with her duties, assumed at her request 
the management of the house, and the regulation of all 
domestic affairs. She was thus enabled to devote her- 
self more unreservedly to the service of tlie ])oor and 
of tlie hospitals. The hospital which she visitfHJ most 
constantly was that which her fbther-in-law had Ibundinl 
near the Chiesa del Salvatore, called at a later period 
Santa Maria m Capi)ella, The miracles wrouj^'ht by ths 



CH. IX.] ST. FRAIJCES OF ROME. 83 

laA'ing* on of lier Lands became more numerous tlian 
ever, and her fame increased in proportion. The degree 
in which her assistance was soiig'ht, her prayers im- 
plored, and the reputation of lier sanctity extended, 
was painful to her humility ; but her supernatural gifts 
were too evident to be concealed from otliers or from 
herself, and there only remained to her to humble her- 
self more deeply at the feet of the God who thus showed 
forth His power in one whom she deemed the most 
worthless of His creatures. 

A g-reat work was preparing* for her hand to do ; 
the first stone of a spiritual building- was to be laid ; 
she was gTowing* ripe for the work ; and God was 
drawing- men's eyes upon her with wonder and with 
awe, that when that day came they mig-ht listen to her 
voice. Tlie warnings which she g-ave to persons threat- 
ened by secret dangers were innumerable ; her insig-ht 
mto the condition of tlieir souls marvellous. One day 
she sends woi-d to her confessor that he will be '^ sent 
for on the following* nig-ht to attend a sick pei-son, but 
that he must on no account leave his house ;'' and it 
turns out that assassins were lying* in wait for him in 
the street, and that the pretended sick man was a lure 
to draw him out. Anotlier time a youth of sixteen, 
Jacopo Vincenzo, is lying- dang-erously ill in tlie Piazza 
Campitelli. His motlier hastens to the Saint, who 
smiles when she enters tlie room, and bids her g-o in 
peace, for her son has recovered ; and on her return she 
finds him in perfect health. She sees a priest at the 
altar, and he a])pears to her sig-ht as if covered with a 
frightful leprosy. By her confessor's order she relates 
her visioi to the object of it; and, confounded and 
amazed, the unliapp}' man acknowledg-es tliat lie was 
Ci'lebrating* in a state of mortal sin. He repents, con- 
fesses, and amends his life. Two men pay a visit to- 
getlier to the Ponziano Palace ; one is the nephew of 
X^'annozza, a pious and exemplary priest ; the other a 
yoiuig- man of twenty, whom he has adopted. Ang-er 
is working- in the bosom of the youth j he has suffered 



84 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

from his benefactor some imaginary wrong', and lie ia 
planning- lii-s revenge, and is about to utter a calumny 
which w411 affect his character. Francesca takes him 
aside : what can she know of what is passing- in his soul : 
how read what has not been revealed to any human 
creature ? She tells him what he designs, and awakens 
him to a ijsense of his ing-ratitude. He no sooner has 
left the house than, falling- at the feet of his companion, 
he confesses to him his crime, and implores his forgive- 
ness. Cecca Clarelli, a relation of the Ponziani, is de- 
livered of a little girl in such apparent good health that 
no one thinks of baptising- her ; a g-rand ceremony for 
the purpose is preparing- in a neighbouring- church, to 
take place the following- day ; but in the middle of the 
niglit Francesca arrives, and entreats that the child may 
be instantly baptised. The parents and the priest ob- 
ject, but the Saint is urgent; she will take no denial; 
with reluctance her request is complied with, and no 
sooner has the sacrament been conferred than the infant 
expires. A child of the same parents, a lovely little 
girl, is dumb ; she is four years old, and not a single 
word has she ever pronoimced. Andreozzo, her father, 
entreats his wife to carry her to the Saint, and implore 
her assistance. Francesca' s humility cannot endure tliis 
direct appeal, and she tries to put them off; but, deeply 
affected by their tears, she at last touches with her 
finger the tongue of the little Camilla, and says, " Hope 
every thing from the mercy of God ; it is as boundless 
as His power." The parents depart full of faith and 
comfort; and ere they reach their house, the child has 
uttered with perfect distinctness the blessed names of 
Jesus and Mary; and from that day forward acquires 
and retains the power of speech. 

No wonder that the name of Francesca grows every 
day more famous, and that she is every day more dear 
to the people amongst v. horn she dwells; tliat hearts 
are subdued, sinners reclaimed, mourners consoled by 
the sight of her blessed face, by the sweet sound of hei 
voice. Many rise about her and call her blessed -, but 



ClI. X.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 85 

children, and more especially lier own s})iritual cliil* 
dren, are soon to call her mother. A new epoch is now 
at hand in her career. God had placed in her heart 
many years ag'o a hope which she had nm-sed in se- 
cret, and watered with her tears, and fostered by her 
prayers. Never impatient, never beforehand with God's 
providence, she waited : His time was she knew to be 
her time; His will was the passion of her heart, her 
end, her rule, and God had made her will His, and 
broug-ht about by slow degTees its accomplishment. 
Permission to labour first,— the result far distant, but 
clear, the vision of that result, when once He had said 
to her, " Begin and work." To tarry patiently for that 
sigTial, to obey it unhesitatingly when once given, is 
the rule of the saints. How marvellous is their in- 
stinct ! how accordant their practice ! First, the hid- 
den life, the common life ; the silence of the house of 
Nazareth ; the carpenter's shop ; the mania g-e-feast, it 
may be, for some ; and at last, " the hour is come," 
and the true work for which they are sent into the 
world has to be done, in the desert or in the cloister, 
in the temple or in the market-place, on Mount Tha- 
bor or on Mount Calvary ; and the martyr or the con- 
fessor, the founder or the reformer of a religious order, 
comes foi-th, and in an instant, or in a few yeai-s, per- 
forms a work at which earth wonders and angels re- 
joice. 



CHAPTER X. 

FRiNCESCA LAYS THE FOUNDATION OF IIER FUTURE CONGREGATIOJJ 
— HER PILGRIMAGE TO ASSISl. 

Lorenzo Ponziano's admiration and affection for his 
wife had gone on increasing with advancing years ; the 
perfection of her Hfe, and the miracles he had so often 
seen her i.erform, inspired him with an unbounded re 



86 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

verence. His continual prayer, the ardent desire of liIs 
neart, was to lia^e lier by his side as his gaiide and his 
guardian angel during- the remainder of his life and at 
the hour of his death. Perhaps it was to win, as it 
were, from Providence the favour he so earnestly im- 
plored, that he resolved in no way to be a clog- on her 
actions, or an obstacle in the way of God's desig-ns upon 
her. Taking- her aside one day, he spoke to her with 
the g-reatest affection, and offered to release her from 
all the obligations imposed by the state of marriage, to 
allow her tlie fullest liberty of action and the most ab- 
solute control over her own person, her own time, and 
her own conduct, on one only concution, — that she wouH 
promise never to cease to inliabit his house, and to guide 
him in the way in which her example had hitherto led 
him. Francesca, profoundly touched by his kindness, 
did not hesitate to give this promise. She accepted his 
proposal joyfully and gratefiilly, in so much as it con- 
duced to the accomplishment of God's v>'ill and of His 
ulterior designs upon her ; but she continued to devote 
herself to her excellent husband, and with the most 
attentive solicitude to render him every service in her 
power. He was now in vei'y declining health, and she 
rendered him by day and by night all the cares of the 
tenderest nurse. The religious life, the natural com- 
plement of such a course as hers had been, often foi. ?M 
the subject of her meditations ; and God, who destine,! 
her to be the foundress of a new congregation of pious 
women, suggested to her at this time the first steps to- 
wards its accomplishment. 

It will be remembered that fi'om her childhood up- 
ward slie had been used to frequent the church of Santa 
Maria Nuova, on the Foro Romano ; her mother had 
done so before her, and had intrusted her to the spi- 
ritual direction of one of the most eminent members of 
the order by whom that clnn-ch was served. Santa 
Maria Nuova is one of the oldest churches in Rome. 
It had been destroyed and rebuilt in the eij^hth century; 
and in J 353 had been given up to tiie Olivetan monka 



en. X.] ST. FRANCES OF Ri)MF, 87 

of -St. Benedict. As the cong-reg-ation wliicli Francesca 
instituted was orig'inally formed on the model, and ag- 
oTe2:ated to that of the reho-ious of jMount Olivet, it 
will not be irrelevant to g'ive some account or their 
origin and the life of then' illustrious founder. 

Bernard Ptolomei or Tolomei, who was supposed to 
De descended from the Ptolemies of Egypt, was bora 
in 1272. Disting-uished by his precocious abilities, he 
became, at the early ag'e of twenty-two, chief-magis- 
trate (goJifaloji'wrc) of his native town, Sienna ; and at 
twenty-five attained to the dig'nity of dog"e. Soon after 
he was suddenly struck with blindness, and the material 
darkness in which he foimd himself involved opened his 
mental sigiit to the ligiit of religious truth. He turned 
witli his wliole heart to God, and irrevocably devoted 
himself to His service and to a life of au.^terity and 
meditation. The Blessed Virgin miraculously restored 
his sigiit, and his pur[)ose stood firm. Dividing- his 
fortune into two erpial parts, he bestowed one half on 
the poor, and the other to the foundation of ])ious insti- 
tutions. With a few com])anions he retired into tlie 
mountainous deserts of Accona, about fifteen miles from 
Sienna, where tliey g'ave themselves up to a life of as- 
ceticism and prayer, which attracted to their solitude 
mnny devout souls fi-om vnrious parts of the world. 
Satan, as usual, set his batteries in array ag-ainst the 
new anchorites, and trials of various sorts assoiled them 
in turn. Tiiey were even denounced to Pope John 
XXI r. as persons tainted with heresy; but Tolomei, 
with Piccolomini, one of his companions, made tlieir 
way to Avig-non, and there, in the presence of the 
sovereig-n Pontifi:', completely cleared tliemselves from 
the calumnious imputation. Tlieir order was a})proved, 
nnd they returned to Accona, wliere they took the name 
of " Congregation of Mary of Mount Olivet of the Bene- 
du'tine Order." This was by the express desire of the 
Blessed Virgin, who had ap[)eared to tiie saint, and en- 
ioined him to adopt the rule of St. Benedict, promising 
ftt the sume time her protection to tlie new order. Oi 



86 ST. FRANt;ES OP R03fE 

tlie 26th of March, 1319^ the new reLgiou n cei ^ed 
ihcir habits 5 and Mount Accona took the name o\ 
Mount Ohvc't, in honour of the agony of «mr Lcrd, 
Terrible were the coniiicts of the lioly founder v.^ith 
tie Evil One; but out of them all he came victoriinis. 
His expositions of Scripture were wonderful, and d(jri^e<i, 
it was said, from his mystical colloquies with the arch- 
angel St. Michael. The austerity of his life was ex- 
treme; his penances severe and continual. In 1348 
St. Benedict appeared to him and announced the ap- 
proach of the pestilence which was soon to visit Ital}'', 
and warned him of his own death, which speedily fol- 
lowed. Many of his disciples had visions of the giori- 
ous translation of his soul to heaven ; and numerous 
miracles wrought at his tomb bore witness to his sanc- 
tity. His monks inhabited the church and the cloistei'S 
of Santa Maria in Dominica, or, as it is more commonly 
called, in Navicella, from the rudely-sculptured marble 
monument that stands on the grass before its portal, a 
remnant of bygone days, to which neither history nor 
tradition has given a name, but which has itself given 
one to the picturesque old church that stands on the 
brow of the Coelian Hill. As their numbers afterwards 
increased, they were put to great inconvenience by the 
narrow limits of their abode; and Cardinal Belforte, 
titular of Santa Maria Nuova, obtained for them from 
Pope Clement VI. possession of the church of that 
name. They accepted the gift with joy; for nut only 
did it owe its origin to the first ages of Christianicy, but 
it contained many valuable relics; and amongst other 
treasures one of those pictures of the Blessed Virgin 
which tradition has ascribed to St. Luke the Evano-elist: 
to this day it is venerated in that spot; and those who 
kneel at the tomb of St. Francesca Romana, on raising 
their eyes to the altar above it behold the sacred image 
which has been venerated for so many generations. 

Through prosperity and adversity Francesca had 
never ceased to frequent ihat church. At its confes- 
giona] and at its altars she cac ocen a constant n^tcod 



tH. X.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 81 

ant. Other women, her friends and imitators, had M- 
towed her example , bound by a tender friendship, bent 
on tlie same objects, united by the same love of Jesus and 
of Mary, often and often tliey had been there to<^-et]ier, 
those noble women who had resolved to g'lory in not'iing^ 
but the Cross, to have no rank but that of handmaids 
in the house of the Lord. Francesca was their model, 
their teacher, their clierished "uide : tliev clun^' to hei 
with the tenderest affection; they were, according* to 
an Eastern poet's expression,* a row of g'oodly pearls, 
and she the silken cord which bound them tog-ether. 
They were coming- out of the church one evening*, when 
Francesca g-ave them the first intimation of her hopes 
of their future destiny. They were not shown the 
distant scene, only the first step they were to take.f 
It was one of tliose small beginnings so trifling* in 
men's sight, so important in their results, — the grain 
of mustard-seed hereafter to grow into a tree. Fran- 
cesca spoke to tliem, as they walked along-, of the 
order of St. Benedict, of the sanctity of its founder, of 
the virtues, the piety, tlie good works of its members, 
and submitted to them that by taking the name of 
" Oblates of Mount Olivet," and observing conjointly 
certain rules, sucli as might befit persons living in the 
world, they might participate in their merits, and enjoy 
their privileges. Her companions hailed this proposal 
with joy, and begged her to use all her efforts to carry 
it into effect. Don Antonio, to whom Francesca com- 
municated their pious wishes, lent a favourable ear to 
tlie request, and in his turn brought it under the notice 
of the Vice-Prior Don Ippolito, wlio, in the absence of 
the superior, was charged with tlie government of t]>e 
monastery. He was tlie same who at one time formed 
the project of leaving the order, and was deterred h-om 

* " They a row of pearls, and I 

The silken cord on which they lie.'' 

f " Lead thou me on; I do not ask to see 

The distant scene : one step enough for me.'' 

Newman's Verses on Religious Subjects 



90 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

SO doing' by Francesca's advice. He readily received tlieu 
overtuies, and obtained for her and for her companions 
from the General of the Order permission to assume the 
name of ^^ Oblates of Mary/' a particular ag'gTeo'ation to 
the monastery of Santa Maria Nuova, and a share in the 
suffrages and merits of the order of St.. Benedict. 

Greatly rejoiced at the happy result of their appli- 
cation^ they g'ave themselves to fasting*, pra^^er, and 
penance, in preparation for their special consecration to 
the Blessed Yirg'in. It took place on the Feast of the 
Assumption of the year 1425. 

At break of day, in the church of Santa Maria 
Nuova, Francesca, Vannozza, Rita de Celli, Ag-nese Selli, 
and six more noble Roman ladies, confessed, received 
the pious instructions of Don Antonio, and communi- 
cated at a Mass which Don Ippolito said before the 
miraculous image of the Blessed Virgin. Immediately 
after the holy sacrifice, they dedicated themselves to her 
service, according to the formula used by the Olivetan 
monks ; only that tlie phrase " me offero" was substi- 
tuted for ^^profiteorj" and that instead of taking solemij 
vows, they were simply affiliated to the Benedictino 
Order of Mount Olivet. Such was the first beginning 
of the congregation of which Francesca was the mother 
and foundress. In these early times, Don Antonio, 
their du-ector, did not assign them any special occu- 
pation, and only urged them to the most scrupulous 
obedience to the commandments of God and of the 
Chm-ch, to a tender devotion to the Mother of God, a 
diligent participation in the Sacraments, and the exercise 
of all the Christian virtues, and the various works of 
mercy. The link between them consisted in their con- 
stant attendance at the church of Santa Maria Nuova, 
where they received communion on all the Feasts -if 
our Lady, and in a tender veneration for Francesca, 
whom they looked upon as their spiritual mother. They 
had incessant recourse to her advice ; and her simples! 
words were as a law to them, her conduct their example 
She assumed no power, and disclaimed all autboritvj 



CH. X.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 91 

but tlio sovereig'n empire of love was forced into liei 
reluctant Lands. They insisted on being- g-overned bj 
one they held in such affection, and gave up every plea- 
Biu-e for the sake of being- with her, and sharing* in hei 
pursuits. 

It was in the summer of the following* year that 
Francesca decided on performing* a pilg-rimage to Santa 
Maria, or, as it is more commonly called " La Madonna 
deg'li Angeli," in honour of our Lady and of tlie se- 
raphic Saint of Assisi. Vannozza and Rita eagerly 
agreed to accompany her ; and they resolved to set on 
on the 2d of August, in order to arrive in time for the 
celebrated indulgence ^' del Perdono." It was in poverty, 
not only of spirit but of actual reality tliat they wished 
to perform their journey to the tomb of tlie great apostle 
of poverty, — to go on foot, and unprovided with money, 
provisions, or comforts of any soit. Lorenzo and Pa- 
luzza, who had readily consented to the proposed pil- 
grimage, demurred for a while at this mode of canying 
it out; but Francesca prayed in her oratory tliat God 
would incline their heai-ts to consent to it;" and soon, 
witli a reluctant smile, tliey consented to all she pro- 
posed, and both onl}^ ejaculated, " Go on your way in 
peace ; do as you list, and only pray for iis." Oiit of 
the gates of Rome they wont, througli tl-at country so 
well known to those who have often visited the Eternal 
City; up the hill from whence the first sight of its domes 
and its towers, of its tombs and of its pines, is hailed 
with rapture, from whence a long last lingering look of 
love is cast upon what tlie heart whispei-s is its own 
Catholic home. It was tlie fii-st, and as it would seem 
the only occasion (at least none other is mentioned in 
her life) in wliich Fi-ancesca left its walls, and trod other 
gTOund tlian that whicli the steps of so many martyrs 
have hallowed, tlie blood of so many saints has conse- 
crated. The valleys of Veii on the one hand, the heights 
of Baccano on the other, the beautiful and stately moun- 
tain of Sci-acte, met their eyes as they do ours': woidd 
that we looked upon them with the same earth-absti-actetf 



92 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

ffaze as theirs ! The Gothic towers of Civita Castellana 
looked clown upon the humble pilg-rims as they passed 
by in pious meditation. The sound of their sweet voices, 
reciting" prayers or chanting- hymns, ming-led with the 
murmurs of the stream that bathes the old walls ol 
Nurni; and then through the wild defile of Monte 
Somma into the lovely Umbrian Vale they went, through 
that enchanting" land where every tree and rock wears 
the form that Claude Lorraine or Salvator Rosa have 
made familiar to the eye and dear to the poetic mind; 
where the vines hang- in graceful g'arlands, and the fire- 
flies at night dance from bough to bough ; where the 
brooks and the rivers are of the colour of the sapphire 
or the emerald, and the purple mountains smile rather 
than frown on the sunny landscape ; where the towns 
and the convents, tlie churches and the cottages, are 
set like white gems in the deep verdure that surrounds 
them. Thei-e is no land more fair, no sky more tenderly 
blue, no breeze more balmy, than the land where Spoleto 
and Tolig-no and Assisi rise in their picturesque beauty, 
than the sky which spreads its azure roof over the Um- 
brian traveller's head, than the airs which are wafted 
fii'om the heights of Monte Falco, or the hill of Peru- 
gia. Beautiful is that country ! fair these works of 
God ! — but more beautiful still is the invisible world 
which Francesca and her companions contemplated, the 
while, with weary patient feet, in the sultry August 
weather, they trod the lengthening road from one humble 
resting-place to another. Fairer the inward perfection 
of a soul which God has renewed, than all the gorgeous 
but evanescent loveline.-s of earth's most lovely scenes. 
At length their pilgrimage is drawing to a close ; 
the towers of the Madonna degii Angeliare conspicnous 
in the distance ; half unconsciously they hasten in ap- 
proaching it; but the heat is intense, and their lips 
parched with thirst ; they can hardly speak, for their 
tongues cleave to the roof of their mouths, when 9 
stranger meets them, one of striking* and venerable ap- 
DO'arance, and clothed m the religious habit of St, Francis, 



CU. X.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME 93 

He hails the travellers, and straig'htway speaks of Alary 
and of Jesus, of the mystery of the Passion, of the won- 
ders of Divine love. Never have such vi'ords of fire 
met the ears of the astonished pilgrims. Tlieir hearts 
burn within them, and they are ready to exclaim, " Never 
did man speak like to this man." Fi-ancesca sees her an- 
g"el assume his hrig-htest aspect. Rays of lig-ht seem to 
dart from his form, and to envelope in a dazzling- halo the 
monk who is addressing* them. She knows him now ; 
and makes a sig-n to her companions. It is St. Francis 
himself. It is the sera})hic saint of Assisi. He blesses 
the little troop, and touching* a wild pear-tree by the 
road-side, he brings down to tlie cround a fruit of such 
prodigious size, that it serves to aHay the thirst and re- 
store the strength of tlie exhausted ti*avellers. 

That day they reached tlie shrine where they had 
so long-ed to kneel ; that little hut, once the abode of 
the saint, which stands in its roug-li simplicity within 
the g'org'eous church ; where the rich and g-reat of the 
world come daily to do homag'e to the apostle of poverty, 
the close imitator of Him who had not often where to 
lay His head. There they received communion the 
next morning-; there they prayed for their absent 
friends ; there Francesca had a vision, in which she 
was encourag-ed to pei-severe in her labours, to accom- 
plish her pious design, and the protection of Jesus and 
His Mother was promised to her. Let us follow them 
in thoug-ht up the steep hill to Assisi — to the church 
where the relics of the saint, where his mortal remains 
are laid. Let us descend into the subterranean chapel, 
pause at every altar, and muse on the records of that 
astonishing" life, the most marvellous jierhaps of any 
which it has ever been permitted to mortal man to live. 
Let us g'O with them to the home of his youth, where 
his confessorship beg-an in childish suftering-s for the 
Bake of Christ. Let us venerate with them the relics of 
St. Clare, the gentle sister spirit whose memory and 
whose order are linked with his; and for a moment 
ihink what pi ayei-s, what vows, what acts of faith, of 



94 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

hope, of cnarity, must Lave risen like incense from those 
devoted hearts in such scenes, amidst such recollections. 
Doubtless they bore away with them a host of sweet 
ivad pious thoug-hts. Their faces must have shone with 
heaven's own lig-ht as they retraced tlieir steps to the 
liome wliere loving- hearts were awaiting- them. Few 
such pilgrimag-es can have ever been performed. F.van- 
cesca at the tomb of St. Francis of Assisi must have 
been a blessed sig"ht even for an ang-el's eyes. 



CHAPTER XL 

DEATH OF FRANCESCA's FRIE>T) AND DIRECTOR, DON ANTONIO — 

TROUBLES IN ROME AND ITALY FORETOLD BY FRANCESCA — 
DEATH OF VANNOZZA, FRANXESCA'S SISTER-IX-LAW — FOUNDA- 
TION OF THE CONGREGATION OF OBLATES OF TOR DI SPECCHI. 

The extraordinary g-races which had attended om* Saint 
during- her pilgi-imag-e were the prelude of a trial 
which was avraiting- her in Rome. Her earliest friend, 
her lono-trusted o-uide, Don Antonio Savello, had died 
during iier absence. Thoug-li she accepted this dispen 
sation of God's pro Andence with her habitual resignation 
it cut her to the heart. She had deeply loved and 
reverenced her spiritual father j he had instructed her 
in childhood ; directed her ever since with wisdom and 
faithfrilness; and his loss was in one sense greater to 
her than that of any other fr-iend. It occiu-red, too, at 
the very moment when she was about to carry out the 
Divine intimation with regard to the foundation of a 
new Con"Teo'ation, when diiiiculties were everv where 
staring her in the face, and the want of a powerful and 
willins" auxiliarv more than ever needfril. She did not, 
howevei', lose courage, but prayed fervently that God 
oulrl inspire her choice of a director ; and much time 
e spent on her knees imploring this favom\ jNc 
Hibt the selection she made was the result of these 



CH. XI.] ST. FRA?rCES OF ROME. 95 

prayers ; and one of tlie proofs tliat God's ways are not 
as our ways, nor His tlioua-lits as oin* tlKm^-lits. Her 
choice fell on Don Giovanni Mattiotti, the curate of 
Santa Maria in Trastevere, to whom she had already 
sometimes been to confession. He was a man of irre- 
proachable character and distinguished piety, but of an 
iiTesolute and vaccillating- dis])osition, easily disheai-t- 
ened ; nor would he at first sight have ap])eared qua- 
lified for the direction of a person as far advanced in 
perfection as Francesca, on whom God had sucli great 
designs, and with whom He chose to deal in such won- 
derful ways. But the trials which Francesca had to 
endure from tlie irresolution of Don Giovanni ; the pa- 
tience with which she submitted to his varying- com- 
mands; and the supernatural means through which he 
was taug'ht to recognise her sanctity, and to assist in 
carrying- out her desig-ns, tended in the end to tiie glory 
of God, and the praise of the Saint, whose very humility 
was a trial to her, in those days of small beginnings, 
and often of painfid doubts. Crosses of various kinds 
arose in connection witli the undertaking. Son:ie of the 
monks of Santa Maria Nuova, for instance, took occasion, 
on tlie visits of a fatiier inspector, to comj)lain of Don 
Ippolito, and to accuse him of transgressing- the sta- 
tutes, and going beyond his powers, in admitting a con- 
gregation of women to the name and the privileges oi 
their order; especially considering tliat several of these 
women were married, and living in the world. But the 
visitor was a man of piety and prudence. He closely 
examined into the question, and satisfied liimself that 
the institution tended to edification, and was pleasing 
to God; and he sanctioned it accordingly, as far as was 
in his power, and promised to advocate its cause with 
the father-general. 

In the month of July of 1430 Francesca had a 
remarkable vision, which indicated to her the events 
that were speedily to follow, and which she prophesied 
with an accui-acy, that, in the end, occasioned gonei-al 
astonishment. One night, after spending several hom-a 



96 ST. FRAxVCES OP ROME. 

in pra3"er, she saw a lurid lig'lit, tliroug-h which a nuin' 
ber of Satan's ministers were hm-rying to and fro, 
shaking- their torches, and rejoicing- with dreadful glee 
over the impending- calamities of Rome. The Saint fell 
on her knees, and besought the Lord to spare her un- 
happy country. Then falling- into ecstasy, she beheld 
the Infant Jesus in His Mother's arms surrounded Avith 
angels, and St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. John the Bap- 
tist in the attitude of prayer, pleading for mercy to 
the Eternal City, which they seemed to protect by their 
fervent supplications. At the same time she heard a 
voice that said, •' The prayers of the saints have stayed 
the ai-m of the Lord ; but woe to the g'uilty city if she 
repent not, for g-reat afflictions are at hand." Some 
days afterwards the lig-htning* fell simultaneously on the 
churches of St. Peter, St. Paul, and on the shrine of St. 
John Baptist in the Lateran Basilica. Francesca shud- 
dered when she heard of it ; she felt at once that the 
day of g-race had g'one by ; and in thrilling- words de- 
scribed to her confessor, and to several other persons 
that were present, the misfortunes that were about to 
fall upon Rome. 

The fulfilment of her predictions was not long- de- 
layed, though nothing' at the time seemed to give them 
weight. The unwearied exertions of Martin V. had suc- 
ceeded in healing the wounds of Christendom. In Rome 
he had repressed anarchy, recalled the exiled citizens to 
their homes, rebuilt the churches, given a new impulse to 
the government, to the administration of justice, to poli- 
tics, to literature, to science, and to art. He had worked 
hard to promote a reformation in the manners of the 
clergy, and elfected in many places the re-establisliment 
of the discipline of the Church. The legates whom he sent 
to all the courts of Europe had restored some degTee of 
union between the Chi-istian princes, and preached a 
crusade against the Turks and the followers of John 
Huss. He had called together a council, which was 
tii'st convened at Pa\aa, and afterwards removed, first 
to Sieima^ and then to Basle. But before he could him 



CH. XI.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 97 

self join the assembly, death overtook him. Worn out 
with his indefatigable labom-s for the welfan? oF Chiis- 
tendom, he went to receive his reward at an unadvanced 
ag-e, in the month of February of the year 1481. 

Gabriel Candalucero succeeded him under the name 
of Eug-enius IV. The first Consistory which he held 
was marked by a fearful accident, vrhich people chose 
to consider as an evil omen. The Moor of the hall g-ave 
way, and in the midst of the confusion that ensued a 
bishop was killed, and many persons gTievously wounded. 
A discontented monk put about the report that Martin 
V. had died in possession of a considerable treasure; 
and the Colonnas, catching- eag-erly at this pretext, took 
up arms to make g'ood their claims to this supposed 
heritag-e. Once more the adverse factions rose ag-ainst 
each other, and blood Howed in the streets of Rome. 
The Colonnas were constrained to flv ; and the monk, 
convicted of having; conspired to deliver up the Castle 
of St. Ang-elo to the rebels, and to g-et the Pope assassi- 
nated, was condemned to death and executed. A tem- 
porary reconciliation was effected between Eug-enius 
IV. and the too powerful family of the Colonnas ; but 
their haug-lity and violent temper soon broug-ht about a 
rupture. They advanced upon Rome at the head of 
their troops; a bloody eng-ag-ement took place under 
the walls of the city, in which the pontifical troops had 
the upper hand, but many of the nobles perished in 
tlie aft'ray. 

Conflicts of a still more harrowing- nature now arose 
between tlie Pope and tlie Council of Basle. Duke 
Philip of Milan availed himself of this opportunitv to 
retrieve the sacrifices he had made in a treaty which 
the Pope had led him to sig-n with the Venetians. He 
forg-ed a decree whicli purported to proceed irom the 
fathers of the council, appointing- him lieutenant- 
g-eneral of the Church in Italy ; and armed with this 
assumed title, he despatched to the Roman States 
Franccsca Sforza and Nicholas Fortebraccio, two fa- 
mous adventurers in his pay. The latter advanced 

H " 



98 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

apon Rome, and began to devastate its neigliboiirhood. 
The Pope, wholly unprepared for defence, warded off 
the dang-er by sowing- dissension between the two g-ene- 
rals, which he effected by giving up to Sforza, for his 
lifetime, the possession of Ancona, and of the provinces 
which he had connuered in the states of the Church. 
Sforza, in consequence, took part with Eugenius, and 
defeated Fortebraccio at Tivoli; but in the meantime 
a o'oneral insurrection broke out in Rome itself. The 
Giiibelline party attacked the Pope, laid siege to the 
church of the Holy Apostles, where he had taken 
slielter, and from whence he escaped with difficulty 
disguised as a monk, embarked on the Tiber, and found 
a refuge first at Pisa and then at Bolog-na. Rome was 
given up for five months to all the horrors of anarchy, 
tlie pontifical palace pillaged, and new magistrates 
chosen in lieu of those appointed by the Popcj the 
garrison of the castle of St. Angelo alone remaining 
firm in its allegiance to the sovereign Pontiff. Weary 
at last of so much disorder, the city of its own accord 
submitted itself to lawftd authority. Eugenius sent 
a legate, who in some measure succeeded in re-estab- 
lishing peace ; but he himself remained in the north of 
Italy, engaged in convoking* a council, wherewith to 
oppose the irregular decrees of that assembled at Basle. 
These events, which spread over several years, are 
related in confirmation of the prophetical gifts of Fran- 
cesca, who accurately foresaw and foretold them when 
notliing presaged their occurrence. At the time when 
this storm was about to burst over Italy, and the be- 
ginnnig of sorrow was at hand, she was doomed to 
experience another of the heavy afflictions that life had 
yet in store for her. Yannozza, her cherished com- 
panion, her sister, her counsellor, her bosom friend, was 
summoned to receive her heavenly crown; and she 
herself to add to all her virtues a more perfect de^ach- 
mefit from all earthly ties. They had been united by 
every link that affection, sympathy, and similarity of 
feuling", tastes, and opinions can create betweeu two 



CH. XT.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 99 

heai"ts devoted to God. and tliroii2:li Him to eneh otlier. 
Their union had not been obscured by the smallest 
cloud. Tog-ether they had prayed, suffered, and la- 
boTu-ed ; and in trials and joys alike they had been 
'nse})arable. Francesca had been warned in a vision oi 
the a])proaching' end of her sister-in-law ; and at leng-tli, 
strong- in faith, she stands by her dying-bed : and when 
the Evil One, baUied in life, makes a final effort to 
disturb the departing- soul, she prays for the beloved 
of her heart, sprinkles holy water on that much-loved 
form, reads aloud the history of the Passion of our 
Lord; and Vannozza, supported by those sacramental 
g'races wiiich Satan cannot withstand, followed almost 
beyond the verg-e of life by that watchful tenderness 
which had been her joy on earth, sees the evil spirit 
retire before the mig-lit of Francesca's ang-el, and 
breathes her last in perfect peace. The soul which 
had served and loved God so fervently upon earth was 
carried up to heaven in a form visible to tlie eyes of 
her friend; a pure flame, enveloped in a lig-lit trans- 
parent cloud, was the symbol of that g-entle s})ii'it's 
dig'ht into its kindred skies. 

The mortal remains of Vannozza were laid in the 
church of the Ara Coeli, in the chapel of Santa Croce. 
The Koman people resorted there in crowds to behold 
once more their loved benefactress, — the mother of the 
poor, the consoler of the afflicted. All strove to carry 
away some little memorial of one who had g'one about 
among- them doing- good ; and during- the three days 
which preceded the interment, the concourse did not 
abate. On the day of the funeral, Francesca knelt on 
one side of the coffin, and, in sig-ht of all the crowd, she 
was rapt in ecstasy. They saw her body lifted from 
the g-roTmd_, and a seraphic expression in her unlilted 
face. They heard her murmur several times witli an 
indescribable emphasis the woril, " When ? when ?" 
{Quando.^ qnando t) When all was over, she still 
remained immovable ; it seemed as if her soul haa 
risen oil the wing o^ prayer, and followed Yannozza's 



iOO ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

spirit into the realms of bliss. At last her confessor or- 
dered her to rise, and to g'o and attend on the sick. She 
histantlj complied, and walked away to the hospital 
which she had founded, apparently nnconscious of every 
thing' about her, and only roused from her trance by 
tlie habit of obedience which, in or out of ecstasy, never 
forsook her. 

From that day her visions g'rew more frequent 
and more astonishing-. She seemed to live in heaven; 
and during' those hours of m^^stical intercourse with 
saints and angels, and with the Lord of ang-els and 
of saints, to obtain supernatural lig-hts which guided 
her in the foundation of her new conoT-eo-ation. The 
Blessed Virgin revealed to her that St. Paul, St 
Benedict, and St. Mary Magdalene vrere to be its 
protectors; and that Don Giovanni Mattiotti, her di- 
rector, Fra Bartolommeo Biondii, of -the order of St. 
Francis, and Don Ippolito, of the Olivetan Obedience, 
were to co-operate with her in its establishment. To 
Don Giovanni a particular message was Sr^nt to confirm 
him in the intention of forwarding' the work, and to 
warn him a^'ainst discouragement from the manv diffi- 
culties it would meet with. Wonderful were the sio'hts 
which it was given her to see in those long ecstasies, 
during which her soul seemed to absent itself from 
her ail-but spiritualised body. Sometimes a speechless 
contemplation held all her faculties in abeyance; at 
others, in burning* words, she described what passed 
before her mental sight. At times her motionless atti- 
tude almost wor(> the semblance of death ; while often 
she moved about and performed various actions in con- 
nection with the subjects of her visions. In the churches 
which she frequented, — in Santa Croce in Gerusa- 
lemme, in Santa Maria in Trastevere, in the Chapel 
of the Angels in Santa Cecilia, in her own oratory, — 
she is favoured with the presence of celestial visitants. 
The various ecclesiastical feasts of the year bring with 
them analogous revelations ; she spends her time in the 
cave of Bethlehem and the house of Nazai'eth, on th# 



rn. XI.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 101 

moimtains, where Jesus was wont to pray, where He 
was transfigured, where He ag'onised, and where He 
died, Slie adores witli the shepherds and tlie wise 
men; she Hstens to His voice with the disciples and 
the devout multitude ; she suffers witli the Mother of 
soiTows, and weeps with the Mag'dalene at the foot of 
the Cross. The beauties of the New Jerusalem, the 
lovely pastures, the fresh waters, the brig-lit flowers, 
tlie precious stones, which typify the g'lories of the 
world to come, are spi-ead before her in tliose mystic 
trances. Deeper and more mysterious revelations are 
vouchsafed, wonderful secrets disclosed to lier under 
expressive syml-ols, and St. Paul is her g-uide throug'h 
those reg-ions where he was j-avished in spirit while still, 
like her, an inhabitant of earth. One day that she was 
in ecstasy a voice of more than common sweetness 
addressed to her these words— " Tliy path is strewn 
with tliorns, Francesca, and many an -^bs^iicle will 
stand in thy ^vi\y, ere thy little flock can be g'athered 
tog'etlier in our abode. But remember that hail does 
not always follow upon thunder, and that the brightest 
sunshine often breaks throug-li the darkest clouds." 

Encoura<'"ed bv this intimation, the Saint bej^'an in 
earnest to consider of the means of establishing" her con- 
greo'ation. During a short absence which her husband 
made from Rome, she invited all the Oblates to her 
house, and having* made them share her shg'ht repast, 
she assembled them around her, and spoke to them to 
the following* effect : " My dear companions, I have 
called you tog*ether in order to impart to you the lig'hts 
which I have received from the Lord and His blessed 
Mother with regard to our congregation. For seven 
years we liave been especially consecrated to her ser- 
vice, and have bound ourselves to live in chastity and 
obedience, and to observe the rules prescribed to us; 
and I have long thought that as we have been united in 
spirit and in intention, so ought we to \)f. in our outward 
mode of life. For a while I fancied that this my desire 
might only be the result of my maternal affection for 



i02 ST. fran.:es of rome. 

you, and of my solicitude for your advancement. But 
the Lord lias at last revealed to me tliat it is His will 
that I slionld found a new spiritual edifice in this city, 
the ancient strong-hold of religion and of faith. It will 
form an asylum for those persons of your sex and of 
your rank who have conceived the g-enerous resolution 
of forsaking' the world and its allurements- I have 
heg-ged of the Lord to select for His purpose one less 
unworthy than myself, hut I dare no long-er witlistand 
(.he manifestation of His will. I am prejiared to ac- 
complish His hid ding-; hut without you, my sistei*s. 
what can I do ? You are the foundations of the huild- 
ing', the first stones of the new spiritual house of Hist 
mother. You are the seed from which a plentifid har- 
vest is to spring'. Earthly cares,_ the tem^poral aftairjj 
of life, must no longer take up your time. He sum- 
mons you to a retreat, where you will live in His pre- 
sence imitate His example, and copy the virtues of 
l^Iary, where you will pray for Rome, and tm-n away 
His wrath from the degenerate and guilty city. Have 
you not heard how two years ago the thunderholts fell 
on her sacred towers ? Do you not see how every day 
fi-esh miseries are gathering on the devoted heads of 
her people ? But God is fiill of mercy ; Avlien mos'^. in- 
censed at oiu' sins. He casts ahout for souls that will 
appease His anger. He has turned His eyes upon us. 
He bids us unite, and stand in the breach between Him 
and the daring sinners who each clay defy^ Him. Why 
tarry we longer? whyfLu-ther delay? The arms of the 
Blessed Virgin are wide open to receive us. Shall we 
draw back from her embrace? No, rather let us flv 
to her feet." 

As she pronounced these last words Francesca fell into 
an ecstasy, which lasted for some time, and during' which 
she pleaded with God for those who were to belong to 
the new institute. Her companions g'azed upon hrr with 
silent veneration ; and when she came to herself, r Q with 
one accord, and v/ith tears of joy, professed the' iselves 
ready to make every sacrifice wiiich God migh^ r^uire 



X!H. XI. f ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 1( t\ 

of tliem, and to adopt the mode of life and t]ie rule, 
wliicli Francesca mig'iit sug-g-est. But tlieii* as^sent was 
only a preliminary step in the undertaking*. It "was 
necessary to find a house suitable to their })urpose, to 
obtain the consent of the still existing- parents of some 
of the Oblates, to fix in a definitive manner their rule 
and constitutions, and finally to procure the sanction of 
the Holy Father, and his a})])roval of the new order. 
Francesca attended in turn to each of these objects. Il 
the first j)lace she consulted her three coadjutors on the 
choice of a house; and difticulties without number arose 
on this point. The priests were alarmed at the sensa- 
tion which this undertaking- would produce, and were 
quite at a loss to find mone}' for the })urcljase. Fran- 
cesca had long- since g-iven away almost all that she 
po-sesscd. \\ hat little remained was devoted to works 
)fchiritv which could not be abandoned, and all a^'reed. 
that sJie was on no account to have recoui-se on this 
occasion to her husband or to her son. While they 
were deliberatino-, Francesca was favoured witli a vision, 
in which the divine assistance was promised to the 
Oblates, and their protectors (Don Giovanni in |)arti- 
cular) exhorted to perseverance. Encourjiged by these 
assurances, they looked out for a house adapted to the 
requirements of a relig'ious community; and alter many 
researches Don I[)poiito proposed to Don Giovanni a 
building- in the Campitedli di^trict, on the s])Ot where 
the old- tower, known by the name of "Tordi Spccchi," 
used to stand, directly oppo:;ite to the Capitol, ami not 
far from the Santa Maria Nuova. Various obstacles 
arose to the purchase of tliis house, wliicli was neither 
a larg-e nor as convenient as mig-ht have ])een wished ; 
bu*they were finally overcome, and the acquisition com- 
phned towards the end of the year 1432. Ti:is house, 
wl.ich was at first considered only as a temjjorary resi- 
dence, was subsequently added to, and has remained to 
this day the central house of the order ; and in the pon- 
tifical bull the coni>Teiiation is designed bv tht» name 
of '' Oblates of Tor'di Spe^cki." 



104 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

Tlr.s matter once aiTanged, Francesca succeeded in 
dissipating tlie oLjections raised by tlie parents of some 
of the younger Oblates, and to reconcile tliem to the 
proposed alteration in tlieir daughters' mode of life. Tt 
was doubtless a trial to her that while she was remov- 
ing" all the difficulties in the way of the more perfect 
life which her companions were about to lead, she her- 
self could only, like Moses, look on the promised land 
of sph'itual seclusion which they, her disciples and her 
children, were entering on, and after which she had 
yearned from the days of her childhood. But she 
never hesitated as to her line of duty; it was clear 
before her. Lorenzo had released her from all obliga- 
tions but one — that of residing in his house and watch- 
ing over his old age. His infirmities v/ere increasino-, 
and her attentions indispensable to his comfort. No 
one could supply to him Francesca's care. She offered 
up to God the daily self-denial of her existence ; and by 
fresh tokens of His favour He rewarded her obedience. 

Her next anxiety was the formation of the consti- 
tution and of the rules which were to g'overn the infant 
congregation; and in frequent conferences with her pious 
coadjutors the subject was discussed. After many deli- 
berations, during w^hich they could arrive at no con- 
clusion, it was agreed that the matter shoidd be laid 
before God in prayer; and their hope was not deceived. 
In a series of visions, — in w^hich St. Paul in the first 
mstance, and on other occasions the blessed Virgin and 
St. John the Evangelist, appeared to Francesca, — -direc- 
tions were given her so ample and so detailed as to the 
rule which her spiritual daughters were to follow, that 
there remained no room for hesitation. The several 
fasts which they were to observe ; the length of tim.e 
which they were to devote to prayer, to work, and to 
sleep ; the manner in which their actions were to be 
perform3d ; the vocal prayers they were to recite ; the 
solitude, the silence they were to keep ; the poverty, 
the community of goods which they were to practise ; 
tLeir dress, their occupations, their separation from the 



rJH XII. I ST. FRANCES OF ROJME. 105 

world, their detacliment from all earthly ties of interest 
and kindred wliich they were at all times to be inspii-ed 
with ; the precautions to be taken in procuring- the con- 
sent of parents, and securing- the free action of the 
Oblates who mig-ht hereafter join the order, were all 
indicated with the g'reatest precision ; and instructions 
were transmitted to Don Giovanni and his co-operators 
to enlig-hten tliem as to the g-uidnnce and g'overnmen^ 
of the cono-reo-ation. The miraculous manner in which 
the Saint had often read their mo.>t srci-et tiioug'hts, the 
miracles they saw her perform, and the admirable ten. 
our of her life, in which the most active virtues were 
combined with the deepe^^t humihty, and supernaturid 
favours received with the most profound self-abasement^ 
were to them a wan-ant of the g-enuineness of her reve- 
lations, the substance of which, condensed and reduced 
into a series of rules, are to this day observed by the 
Oblates of Tor di Specchi. 



CHAPTER XII. 

PROGRESS AND TRIALS OF THE YOUNG COWMUNITT — IT IS CONFIRMEU 
BY THE POPE — TROUBLES IN ROME AND THE CHURCH TERMI- 
NATED THROUGH FRANCESCa's INTERCESSION AND THE COUNCIL 
OP FLORENCE. 

It was on the 25th of March, the Feast of the Annun 
ciation, in the year 1433, that the Oblates, ten in num- 
ber, met in the church of Santa Maria in Trast^^-vere, 
where their holy foundress had so long- been in the habit 
of resorting'. They all heard Mass, and went to com- 
mmiion with the utmost fervom-, and then in procession 
proceeded to the house they were hencefoiward to in- 
habit. That liouse, which now-a-days is thrown open 
during" the Octave of the Feast of San Francesca, where 
young- women come with their little children, and point 
out to them the room which they inhabited in their owe 



106 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

childhood, when under the gentle care of the Oblates oi 
Mary. It is no gloomy abode, the Convent of Tor di 
Specchi even in the eves of those who cannot under- 
Stand the happiness of a nun. It is such a place as one 
loves to see children in ; where relioion is combined 
with every thing that pleases the eye and recreates the 
mind. TJie beautiful chapel ; the garden with its mag- 
niiiceut orange-trees ; the open galleries, with their 
fanciful decorations and scenic recesses, where a holy 
picture or figure takes you by surprise, and meets you 
at every turn ; the light airy rooms where religious 
prints and ornaments, with flowers, birds, and ingenious 
toys, testify that innocent enjoyments are encouraged 
and smiled upon, while from every window may be 
caught a glimpse of the Eternal City, a spire, a ruined 
wall, — something that speaks of Rome and its thousand 
charms. On Holy Thm-sday no sepulcln-e is more 
beautiful than that of Tor di Specchi. Flowers with- 
out end, and bright hangings, all sweet and costly 
things, do homage to the Lord in tlie hours of His lov- 
ing imprisonment. 

But on the day when Francesca's companions first 
entered those walls, there was nothing very fair or 
beautiful to 2Teet them, thouo-h thev carried there, 
however, in their hearts, from the altar they had just 
left, the som'ce of all light and love ; and to the eyes of 
faith the scene must have been a bright one. With 
delight they exchanged their ordinary dress for that 
which the rule prescribed ; Francesca alone stood among 
them no nun in her outward garb, but the truest nun 
of all, tlirough the inward consecration of her whole 
being to God. Agnese de Sellis, a relation of hers, 
and a woman highly distinguished for virtue and pru- 
dence was elected superior of the house. There was a 
ti*uly admirable spectacle presented to the people of 
Rome ; these women were all of noble birth, and ac- 
customed to all the comforts and conveniences of life. 
Most of them had been wealthy ; some of them were 
8till young; and for the love of God they had g-H'en up 



CH. Xri.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 10? 

every thing*, and made over tlieir possessions to tlieir 
relations ; i'or it was not to lead a life of ease, of reli- 
gious quietude, of holy contemplation alone, that they 
Lad S(;pai'ated themselves from the world. It wns to 
imitate the poverty of Christ, to place in the common 
stock, as tlie first Christians did, the little the^" had re- 
served, and to endure all the privations incident on 
poverty. Their exact and spontaneous obedience to the 
gentle Agnese was as remarkable as the sweetness and 
humility with which she ruled. Seldom seen abroad, 
their hours were divided between prayer, meditation, 
spiritual reading, and works of mercy.* Francesca, 
obliged to be absent from them in body, was ever pre- 
sent with them in spirit. She was the tenderest mother 
to the little flock that had gathered under her shelter- 
ing wing : ministering to their necessities ; visiting 
them as often as she could leave her husband's side; 
exciting them on to perfection by her words and exam- 
ple ; consoling the weak, and confirming" the strong. 

It was not to be expected that the infant congrega 
tion coukl be free from evil rejjort-, and from the kind 
of ])ersecution which ever attends the undertakings and 
tries the courage of God's most faithful servants. The 
mode of life of the Oblates became the geneml subject 
of conversation ; and though the wiser and better por- 
tion of the community were filleil with respect and ad- 
miration for their virtues, there were not wanting persons 
to raise a cry against them and agiiinst their foundress, 
and to complain that women should be allowed to lead 
an existence which was strictly speaking* neither secular 
nor religious ; a monastery without enclosure, without 
voA^s, without revenues, without any security for its 
permanent support. Their comments were not without 

* The rule Avhich they then adopted remains the same to this 
iay. The Oblates of 'lor di Speech! are not, strictly speaking, 
nuns: th'^y take no vows, and are bound IjA^'no obliirations under 
pain of sin; tliey are not cloistered, and their dress is that which 
«as TTorn at the period of their establishment by the widows of 
tlie Roman nobles. 



109 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

effect on the naturally irresolute mind of Don Giovann,' 
]\iattiotti and Fra Bartolomraeo Biandii. The former, 
in particular, g-rew discontented and desponding*. The. 
direct^ion of the order was a heavy burden to him ; 
and his faith in Francesca's revelations was shaken by 
the many w^orldly difficulties which he foresaw. The mi- 
raculous manner in which the Saint read his thoug'hts, 
and transmitted to him and his companion the reproofs 
and encouragements w^iich were supernaturally ad- 
dressed to them through the medium of one of her 
visions, opened their eyes to a sense of their pusilla- 
nimity, and made them ashamed of their misgivings. 

Another threatened trial was, by the mercy of God, 
turned into a consolation. One of the youngest of the 
Oolates, Augustina Coluzzi, was the only child of her 
mother, who was a widow. This mother had made a 
jj'enerous sacrifice to God in gladly surrendering this 
beloved daughter to the exclusive service of Him who 
had called her to that high vocation • but she had mis- 
calculated her sacrifice, or, perhaps, tiTisted too much 
to her own strength. When the sacrifice was made, 
the human feelings rose in her heart with terrible vio- 
lence, and life appeared to her as one dreary blank, now 
that her home was shorn of its light, now that the be- 
loved child of her heart had ceased to gladden her eyes, 
Self-reproach for their vain repinings heightened her 
misery, and misery at last grew into despair. In an 
instant of wild recklessness she seized a knife, and was 
about to destroy herself, when, like an angel at the 
hour of her utmost need, her daughter was at her side, 
and arrested her arm. It was so against all rules and 
all probabilities that she should have come to her at 
that moment, that she gazed on her in silent astonish- 
ment. Francesca was in prayer at the moment when 
Satan had been tempting the unfortunate woman; and 
tlie dreadful danger she was in w^as miraculously re- 
vealed to her. She instantly ordered Augustina tc 
leave what she was about, and hurry to her mother, 
l^he young girl arrived in time; and so great was the 



CH. XII.l ST. FRANCES OF ROME. ]09 

impression whicli tins mercifiil iuterposition producea 
on tlie nioilier, so deep her sense of the peril to wliich 
her soul had been exposed, that she hastened to tla-ow 
herself at Frnncesca's feet, and with blessings on her 
and on her dang-hter, she expressed her gi-atitude foi 
Aiig'iistina's vocation, and her earnest wish that she 
should remain faithful to it. 

Anotlier trial arose in tliose early days at Tor di 
Sppcchi from the resolution formed by a wealthy young 
heiress to join the order. She belonged to one of the 
noblest families in Rome, and was bent on employing 
her fortune in su|)porting tlie infant congregation. Fran- 
cesca was reluctant to receive her; but, over persuaded 
by the opinions of others, she gave way. A violent 
opposition immediately arose ; and there was no end to 
the calumnies and vituperations which were employed 
on tlie occasion. Fnincesca, again enlightened by a 
divine intimation, insisted on restoring the young person 
to her fiimily ; and a rule was hencefoi-ward made that 
none but persons of a more advanced age should be 
admitted into the order. 

These and many other difficulties rendered it very 
desirable that the approval of the Holy Father should 
set its seal on the work, and furnish it with a shield 
against the malice of the world. The permissions which 
thev souo'ht were as follows : 1st, that the Oblates 
should be allowed the riglits to live in community, and 
to admit other persons into their society ; 2d, that they 
might elect for themselves a superioress ; 3d, that this 
superioress sliould have the power of choosing a con- 
fessor for the house ; 4th, that they should have a 
chapel in whicli to hear Mass, to go to confession ana 
to communion, and be exem})ted from the jm-isdiction 
of the parish and the parish priests. This scheme was 
fully approved of by the three coadjutors; but it was 
some time before Don Giovanni could be induced to lay 
it before the sovereign Pontiff. He alleged that the 
disturbed state of Rome, and the many distracting cares 
which were besetting the Hoi}' Father, held out no pros- 



110 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

pect of success in siicli a mission ; but. urged bv various 
irresistible proofs that God willed tliat lie should under- 
talto it, he at last consented. The petition was framed 
in the name of the Oblates, Francesca absolutely refusing 
to be mentioned as the foundress. While he bent his 
way to the pontifical palace, the Oblates of Tor di Spec- 
chi and the monks of Santa Maria Nuova joined in 
fervent prayer to God for the success of his application. 
Eugenius IV. received Francesca's messenger with great 
kindness, and bade him carry back to her assurances of 
his favoura])le disposition towards the congregation, 
recommending himself at the same time to her prayers 
and to those of her sisters. He commended the exami- 
nation of the case to Gaspard, Archbishop of Conza, and 
enjoined him to verify the fact - recited in the petition, 
and to communicate on the subject with the prior and 
the monks of Santa Maria Nuova ; and if satisfied with 
the result, to grant the privileges therein requested. 
The archbishop applied himself with diligence to the 
execution of these orders ; and the original document in 
which this authorisation is recorded still exists amongst 
the archives of the monastery. It stipulates that the 
Oblates shall be subject to the jurisdiction of the superior 
and of the monks of Santa Maria Nuova, and that they 
may continue to inhabit the h(3use of Tor di Speech! 
until such time as they shall have made purchase of 
another. A short time afteiwards the Oblates, fidl of 
gratitude and joy at the favours which had been granted 
them, and every day more satisfied with their abode, 
solicited and obtained permission to remain in it in 
perpetuity. This last transaction took place at the 
very time when Rome was given up to anarchy, and 
frightful disorders reigned within its walls; when the 
pontifical magistrates had been thrust aside, and furious 
demagogues installed in their places. The Pope had 
taken refuge in Bologna, and it is from that town 
that is dated the last-mentioned decree. The congrega- 
tion was successively confirmed by three of the generals 
of the Olivetan crdei*; and in 144:4 Eugenius lY. ex 



CH. XII.j ST. FRANCES OF ROME. Ill 

tended still further tlie privileges and franchises ol 
the Oblates, 

Francesca was deeph'' impressed with the responsi- 
bilit}'- she had mcurred in the establishment of her con 
greg-ation, and felt herself bound to advance more and 
more in virtue herself, as well as furtlier tlie pietj of 
ner spiritual daughters. During- her visits to the con- 
vent she used to work indiscriminately in the kitchen 
or in the parlour; waited at table, and cleaned tlie 
plates, as it might happen; and could not bear to be 
treated with the least distinction. In coming in, and in 
going away, she always reverently kissed the hand of 
Agnese de Sellis the superioress, and asked for her 
blessing. She sometimes accompanied the sisters to 
her vineyard near St. Paul without the Walls, where 
they g'athered wood, and carried it back to Rome bound 
in fago'ots for burning. She gently reproved one of 
the Oblates who, on one of these occasions, sought to 
screen her from observation when an illustrious person- 
age was passing by. She took them with her to visit 
the hos])itals and the poverty-houses in the city: and 
the miraculous cures which she performed in their pre- 
sence confirmed their fixith, and inflamed them with 
the most ardent desire to imitate her exam])le. 

At the time that the misfortunes of Home wei'e at 
their height, Francesca appeared one morning at the mon- 
astery, and gathering around her her sjnritunl daugli- 
ters, she thus addressed them : " What siiall we do, my 
children ? The wrath of God is warring fierce against 
our unhappy country ; Rome is in the liands of cruel 
and lawless men ; the Holy Father in exile ; his ministers 
in prison, his life sought after as if he were an odious 
oppressor, and we know not when to look for his return. 
Immorality is increasing, vice triumphant, hell ya-' ning 
for souls which Christ's blood has redeemed, and those 
who ought to extingiiish do but excite tlie flame, and 
draw down upon us the just judgment of (lod. The 
Blessed Virgin requires at our hands more fervent 
Ui-ayers, more tears, more penances. We must supplj^ 



112 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

for the great dearth of love. Mortifications and prayer 
are the weapons Ave ai-e fiirmshed with ; our hearts are 
the victims which must be slain for men's sins; oui' 
tears must quench those unholy fires ; we shall not be 
true Obiates until we have made a complete sacrifice ol 
ourselves, of our souls and of our bodies, to the Lord. 
We are few ; but do not doubt the strength of prayer. 
Let us be fervent and persevere, and soon we shall reap 
the fruit of our intense supplications, of our long- con- 
tinued pleadings; and liberty, peace, and all God's 
bles-?ings, will be restored to Rome." Francesca's ex- 
hortations had their effect, and the fervent prayers they 
drew forth had theirs also ; for in the same year the 
Bishops of Recaunti and of Turpia reassumed, in the 
Pope's name, possession of the city; and the Romans, 
wearied with anarchy, gladly welcomed their rule. 

A more terrible evil, a more appalling danger now 
threatened not only Rome but the whole Catholic world. 
The undutiful conduct of the Coimcii of Basle, witli the 
violence of their language with regard to the Holy See, 
brought matters to such a point that a deplorable schism 
appeared inevitable. Pope Eugenius was divided be- 
tween the fear of hunting' it on, and that of compro- 
mising by undue concessions the legitimate authority 
of the Chair of Peter. It was at this juncture that the 
Blessed Virgin appeared one night to Francesca, sur- 
rounded by saints and apostles, serenely beautiful, and 
with a compassionate expression in her countenance. 
After some preliminary spiritual instructions, she inti- 
mated to the Saint that God was waiting to have mercy 
and that His wrath had to be softened by assiduous 
prayei's and good works. She named certain religious 
exercises, certain penitential practices ; which were to Ife 
observed on the principal feasts of the ensuing year; and 
recommending to the faithful in general, and more pai-- 
ticularly to the Obiates, a great purity of heart, a sincere 
contrition for past sin, and a spirit of earnest charity, 
she charged Francesca to see that her orders were com- 
plied with; and disappeared after bestowing her blessing. 



ClI. XII.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 113 

It was in vain, liowever, tliat this revelation was 
commi nicated by Don Giovanni to the clergy of Rome. 
They rejected it as the dream oi' a pions and sickly wo- 
mnn ; and even the most earnest among-st them abso- 
hitelv declined to attach to it the slig-htest importance. 
Not so the Vicar of Christ, vrhen Francesca's confessor 
carried to l.'im at Bolog-na the message of the saint; 
lie listened to it with reverence and gratitude, and sent 
bick ])y his means all the necessary mandates for the 
execution of the orders 3vhich the Blessed ^''irg-in had 
g-iven. When he arrived at Tor di )Specchi, Francesca 
met him; and before he could open his mouth, she gave 
liim an exact account of all that had taken place on his 
journey, and of the very words which tlie Holy Fathe. 
ha'd used diuing" their interview. The Pope's directions 
wvi'Q attended to, the appointed Masses said, the pro- 
cessions oriranised ; and in a short time it was seen that 
a favourable result ensued. TJie Pope was ha])[)ily in- 
spired to convene the council that met at Ferrara, and 
subsequently continued its labours at Florence. Tliis 
at la t ])ut an end to the pretensions of the illeg-al as- 
sembly at Basle, and the wounds of the Church were 
gradually healed. There was but one opinion at the 
time as to the cause of this favourable change in the 
aspect of affairs. It was un.anTmously ascribed to the 
})rayers of Francesca and to the Pope's comj)liance with 
the orders she had received; and in the process of her 
canonisation this point is treated of at length, and sa- 
tisfactorily established ; and those who are acquainted 
with the extreme caution o])served on these occasions 
in admitting evidence on such a subject, will be im- 
pressed with the conviction that she was used as an in- 
etnmient of God's mercy towaras His suffering Chui'ch, 



114 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 



CHAPTER XIIL 

DEAXU OF PRANCESCa's HUSBAND — SHE GOES TO RESIDE WITH TEl 
COMMUNITY OF TOR DI SPECCHI — HER LIFE AS SUPERIORESS. 

Francesca had been forty years married to Lorenzo 
Ponziano; and tliroug-h her married life, tlie heart that 
had been consecrated to God from the first dawn of ex- 
istence had been faithful in its love to him whom God 
Himself had appointed to be her chief earthly care : and 
blessed had been the course of that union -, blessed by 
the tender affection which had rei^Tied between the hus- 
band and the wife, and by the exercise of no common 
virtues, multiplied by the pm-suits of one common 
object. Francesca had led the way; in meekness, in 
liumility, in subjection; but with a single aim and an 
unwavering' purpose. Many and severe trials had been 
their portion at diiierent epochs of their lives ; but the 
latter pai"t of Lorenzo's existence had been compara- 
tively tranquil. Lorenzo was the first to be called 
away. God sp-^red him the trial he had probably 
dreaded. We seldom are called upon to suffer the 
particular grief that fancy has dwelt upon. His health 
had been breaking" for some years past, and now it 
utterly failed, and his disease assumed an alarming- 
character. Francesca, though apparently worn out 
with toil, with abstinence, and mental and bodily la 
hours, found streng'th for every dut}"^, and energy for 
everv emero-encv. Diuinsr Lorenzo's prolono-ed and 
painful illness, she was always at his side, nursing him 
with indefatigable tenderness, and completing the work 
which her example l^ad wrought. His passage from 
life to eternity appeared but a journey. The efforts of 
Satan to disturb him on his death-bed, though often 
repeated, vvere each time frustrated. Lorenzo had been 
a just man, and his death was the death of the right- 
eous. Few men would have shown themselves as 



CH. XIII.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 115 

worthy as he did of such a wi^e as Francesca. From 
the moment of his marriage he had appreciated her 
virtues, rejoiced in Iier piety, encourag-ed lier good 
works, and to a great extent shared in them. No mean 
feehng-s of jealousy, no human respect, no worldly 
sentiment of expediency had influenced him. When 
he saw her renoimcing- all the pleasures and vanities of 
the world, dressing- like a poor person, wearing* herself 
out in the zeal of her charity, turning- the half of his 
palace into a hospital, he did not complain, but rather 
rejoiced that she was one of those "whom fools have 
for a time in derision, and for a parable of reproach ; 
whose life is esteemed madness, and their end without 
honour; but who are numbered among-st the children of 
God, and whose lot is among-st the saints." He had 
his reward ; he had it when his siij-ht failed him and 
his breath crew short, when he felt that his hour was 
come. He had it when in his dvin^ ears she whis- 
pered words of peace; and Satan, with a cry of despair, 
for ever tied away from his couch ; and when the ever- 
lasting- ])ortals opened, and the sentence was pronounced 
at the immediate judgment that follows death. Masses, 
prayers, fervent conmiunions, and pious suifrag-es fol- 
lowed him beyond the grave; and when tlie saint, who 
had been the model of wives, stood by that grave a 
widow, her earthly task was, in one sense, done: but 
work remained; but it was of another sort. From her 
earliest youth she had been a mm in spirit; and the 
heart which had sighed for the cloister in childhood 
yearned for its shelter in these her latter days. She 
must go and live in the shade of the tabernacle ; she 
must be alone with her Lord during the few remaining 
years of life. This must have been foreseen by her 
children ; and yet, like all trials of the kind, however 
long- looked fonvard to, it came upon them at last as 
a sui])rise. When she said, "I niust go," there was 
a loud cry of sorrow in the Ponziano pakce. Baptista, 
the only son of her love, wept aloud. Mobilia threw 
herself into her ai'ms, and. with impetuous gr'ef, pro* 



116 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

tested f.g'ainst her leaving' them. " Are you not afraid 
for me T' she exclaimed, " if you abandon me, you who 
have taug'ht me to love God and to serve Hi.n ? Wliat 
am I without you ? Too much, too tenderly you have 
loved me. It cannot he that you should forsake me. 
T cannot endure existence without you." Her g'rand- 
cliildren also, whom she was tenderly attached to, clung' 
to her, w^eeping*. Moved by their tears, but unshaken 
in her resolution, she gently consoled them ; bade them 
recollect that she was still to inhabit Rome; that her 
arfection for them would be unchanged, and that she 
would always be at hand to advise and to aid them ; 
but that her vocation must now be fulfilled, and the 
sacrifice completed. Then turning" to Mobilia, as to p 
dearly-beloved child, she fondly said, " Do not weep, 
my daughter; you will survive me, and bear witness to 
my memory." This prediction was fulfilled; for Mo- 
bilia was alive at the time that the process for Fran- 
cesca's canonisation was commenced, and the testimony 
she g"ave to her virtues and to her miracles was on 
that occasion most important, and the most detailed. 

After this, Francesca took leave of her family, and 
weni straight to the Tor di Specchi. It was on the 
21st of March, the festival of St. Benedict, that she 
entered its walls, not as the foundress but as a humble 
suppliant for admission. At the foot of the stairs, hav- 
mg" taken off her black gown, her veil, and her shoes, 
and placed a cord around her neck, she knelt down, 
kissed the ground, and, shedding an abundance of tears, 
made her g^eneral confession aloud in the presence of 
all the Oblates ; described herself as a miserable sinner, 
Si gi'ievous offender against God, and asked permission 
to dwell amons'st them as the meanest of their ser- 
vants ; and to learn from them to amend her life, and 
enter upon a holier course. The spiritual daughters of 
Francesca hastened to raise and to embrace her; and 
clothing her with their habit, they led the w^ay to the 
chapel, where they all returned thanks to God. While 
she remahied there eng-ag'ed in prayer, Ag-nese de Sellis, 



CH. XIII.J ST. FRANCES OP ROME. 117 

the superioress, assembled the sisters in the chapter- 
room, and declared to them, that now that their true 
mother and foundress had come among'st them, it would 
be absurd for her to remain in her present office ; that 
Francesca was their guide, their head, and that into her 
hands she would instantly resign her authority. They 
all applauded her decision, and gathering- around the 
Saint, announced to her their wishes. As was to be ex- 
pected, Francesca strenuously refused to accede to this 
proposal, and pleaded her inabihty to the duties of a 
superioress. The Oblates had recourse to Don Gio- 
vanni, who began by entreating*, and finally com- 
manded her acceptnnce of the charge. Pi is orders she 
never resisted; and accordingly, on the 20th of Marcli, 
.she was duly elected to that office. 

She was favoured with a vision which strengthened 
and encouraged her in tlie new task she had before her. 
The angel wjio for twenty-four years had been by her 
side, defending and assisting* her on all occasions, took 
leave of her now with a benignant smile, and in his })lace 
another, more refulgent still, was ordained to stand. 
By day and by night he was continually weaving* a 
mysterious woof, the threads of which seemed to g-row 
out of the mystical palm which he carried. St. Bene- 
dict appeared to Francesca on the day of her election, 
and explained to her the meaning of these symbols. 
Gold was the type of the love and charity which was 
to govern her dealings with her daughtei-s, while the 
palm implied tlie tnumph she was to obtain over human 
weakness and human respect. The unceasin"* labours of 
the angel was to mark the unwearied effoi-ts she was to 
use for the rig-ht ordering and spiritual welfare of the 
community intrusted to her care ; and truly she la- 
boured with indefatigable zeal in her new vocation. 
She had ever before her eyes the words of St. Paul to 
Timothy and to Titus : " Preach the word. Be patient 
in season and out of season. Entreat, rebuke, in all 
patience and doctrine. In all things show thyself an 
example of good works, in doctrine, in integi'ity, is 



119 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

gravity." Preacliing- far more by lier actions than bj 
lier words, slie gave an example of tlie most heroic vir- 
tues. It would be difficult to imagine any thing* moni 
perfect than her life in the world ; but the new duties, 
the new privileges of her present vocation added each 
day new splendour to her virtues. She appointed Agnese 
de Sellis her coadjutress, and begged her to share her 
room, and watch over her conduct, entreating her at 
the same time to warn Iter of every fau t she might 
commit. Her strictness with her spiritual children, 
though tempered by love, was extreme. She never 
left a singie imperfection unreproved, and allowed of no 
infractions, however slight, of the rule. Sometimes, when 
through shyness or false shame, they concealed some 
trifling' offence which they were bound to confess, she 
read tlieir hearts, and reminded them not to give Satan 
a hold upon them by such reserve. She was most care- 
ful of their health, and sought to procure them as oft^n 
as she could some innocent recreation. They used occa- 
sionally to go with her to one or other of her vine- 
gardens without the walls, to take exercise in the pure 
open air. Francesca's gentle gaiety on these occasions 
increased their enjoyment ; and the labour of gathering 
wood and gr-ass, of making up fag-gots, and carrying 
away their spoil on their heads at night, was a part of 
their amusement. The conversation tliat was carried 
on between them the while was as merry as it was in- 
nocent. These young persons, born in palaces and bred 
in hixury, worked like peasants, w^ith more than a pea- 
sant's lightness of heart. 

One fine simn}^ January day — and those who have in- 
habited Rome well know how fine a January day can be — 
Francesca and seven or eight of her companions had been 
since earlv dawn in the vine-gardens of Poi-ta Portese. 
They had worked hard for several hours, and then sud- 
denly remembered that they had brought no provisions 
with them. They soon became faint and hungry, and 
above all very thirsty. Perna, the yoirngest of all thfl 
Oblates, was particularly heated and tu-ed, ; "id approach* 



en. XIII.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 11& 

ing" the Mother Superior, with a wearied expression of 
countenance, slie asked permission to g'o and drink some 
water at a fountain some way off on the puhKc road. 

" Be patient, my cliiki," Francesca answered ; *' the 
fountain is too distant." She was afi-aid of these young 
persons drinking coki water, heated as they were by 
toil and exposure to the sun. They went on witli tlieir 
workj and withdrawing" aside, Francesca knelt down, 
clasped lier hands, and with her eyes raised to heaven, 
said, '^ Lord Jesus, I have been thoughtless in bring- 
mg my sisters here, and forgetting to provide food for 
them. Help us in our need." 

Perna, who had kept near to the Mother Superior, 
probably with the intention of urging her request, over- 
heard this prayer, and, a little irritated by the feverish 
thirst she was enduring, said to lierself with some im- 
patience, " It would be more to the purpose to take us 
home at once." 

Francesca read the inward thought, and turning to 
the discontented girl she said, " My child, you do not 
trust enough in God. Look up and see." Perna 
obeyed, and following the direction of Francesca's 
hand, she saw a vine entwined around a tree, from 
whose dead and leaHess branches were hanging a num- 
ber of the finest bunches of grapes, of that purple and 
burnished hue which the fervid sunbeams of August 
and Sv'ptember impart to tliat glorious fruit. 

" A miracle ! a miracle !" exclaimed the enraptured 
Perna ; and the other Oblates assembled round the 
tree in speechless astonishment, for they had seen all 
iay the bare and withered branches. Twenty times 
at least they had passed and repassed before it ; and at 
all events the season for gra})es had long gone by. 

After kneeling to give thanks to God for tliis 
gracious prodigy, they spread a cloth on the grass, and 
gathered the precious ii-uit. There were exactly as 
many bunches as persons present j and with smiling 
faces and joyful liearts Francesca's children ftd ou tki 
lupply which her prayer had obtained for them. 



120 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

Obedience was a virtue of which the Saint hersell 
gtive a most perfect example, and which she unremit- 
tingly required of others. One of the Oblates having 
refused one day to comply with an order she had re- 
ceived, Francesca fixed her eyes upon her with an ex- 
pression of so much severity, that the person in question 
suddenly fainted away, and remained afterwards speech- 
less and in a state of insensibility. The do(?tors were 
sent for^ and declared that her life was in imminent 
dangler. This was a severe trial to the Saint ; she 
could not reproach herself for a severity which had 
been a matter of duty, not of passion, but at the same 
time she trembled for the soul of one who had appa- 
rently lost the use of reason at the very moment she 
was committing' a serious fault. After addressing- a 
fervent prayer to God, and invoking" the Blessed Virg'iji, 
she went straig'ht to the bed-side of the sistei-, aiul 
taking- her by the hand with g-reat solemnity, addressed 
to her these words : ^^ If it be true that our conoTeo:a- 
Hon is approved oi God, and has His Holy Mother 
for its foundress, in the name of Holy Obedience, I 
command you to speak to me." The Oblate seemed to 
awake from a long dream, and opening- her eyes, she 
distinctly said, " Mother, what would you have me to 
do ?" From that moment she rallied, and was soon 
restored to health. 

Another time, when an aged member of the con- 
gregation was dying, and every moment expected to be 
her last, Francesca prayed that she might not be allowed 
to depart in the absence of Don Giovanni, the director 
of the house. For six days and six nig-hts the sick 
woman lingered between life and death. On the arrival 
of her spiritual father she revived, went to confession, 
and received the last Sacram.ent. Then, as she again 
sank into insensibility, Francesca bent over her and 
said, " Sister Catherine, depart in peace, and pray for 
us;" and in that instant the aged woman expired. 

The povei-ty of the congregation wii,s extreme. The 
ilender means of the first Oblates had been exhausted 



CB. XIII.] 8T. FRANCES OF ROME. 121 

by the purchase of the house and the erection of a small 
chapel. Francesca had indeed made over to it her cwo 
vineyards of Porta Poi-tese and of St. Paul without tbp 
Walls ; but the trilling revenue they fiu-nished was whoUy 
inadequate to the support of fifteen persons ; and more- 
over the rehgious were so endued with the spirit of 
their foundress, that they never could bring themselves 
to turn away a beg'g-ar from their doors as long- as they 
had a slice of bread to bestow. Thev often went a whole 
day without eating", rather than deny themselves the 
hap})iness of feeding- the poor. Francesca, happy in the 
virtues of her children, but tenderly auxiuus for their 
welfare, was indefatig-able in her efforts to procure them 
the necessaries of life. Shfe used on these occasions to 
beg- of her relations, or even of strang-ers ; and Almig-hty 
God allowed her sometimes to provide for them in a 
mu-aculous manner. 

One day that the sister whose turn it was to attend 
to the victualling- department found herself imable to 
Dut upon the table any thing- but two or three small 
frag-ments of bread, she A\ent to consult the Saint, who 
immediately proj)osed to g-o out with her and beg. Ac- 
cordino- to her invariable custom, she asked Acnese de 
Sellis, her coadjutoress, for permission so to do. Contrary 
to her habit on such occasions, Agnese refused, and said, 
that if it was necessary for any one to beg-, she, with 
another of the sisters, would undertake it. Then Fran- 
cesca, after a moment's thought, replied, " I think that 
God will provide for us without any one g'oing- out of 
ihe house;" and caUing- the Oblates to the refectory, 
she asked a blessing- on the bread, and distrdjuted it in 
minute portions among-st them. Each on beg-inning- to 
eat her share, saw it multiply apace; and not only were 
their wants thus supplied at the moment, but enoug;li 
remained when they had done to liu-nish them with 
food for the next dav. 

The g-ift of prophecy she also exercised more fre- 
quently than ever at this period. Once, when she wm 
praying in her cell, the nuns heard her exclain), "0 



122 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

King of Heaven, support and comfort that poor unhappy 
mother;" and some hours afterwards, they heard that 
at that very moment a young* nobleman, Jacobo Mad- 
daleni, had been thrown from his horse and killed on 
the spot, to the inexpressible grief of his mother. Lo- 
renzo Altieri was dying, and his wife Palozza over- 
whelmed with sorrow ; she had several young children, 
and was almost in despair at the idea of losing her hus- 
band. The physician had declared his case hopeless ; 
and when she sent for Francesca her heart was breaking. 
The Saint came up to her, and said compassionately, 
'^ Dear sister, give up the love and the vanities of the 
world, and God will take pity upon you. Lorenzo will 
yet recover j he will be present at my burial." The 
prediction was fulfilled, and Lorenzo, restored to health, 
assisted, as she had said, at the funeral of the Saint; and 
Palozza, whose heart had been entirely converted at 
that moment, and who had vowed in case of his death 
to retire into a convent, whenever her children could 
spare her, led henceforward, in every respect, the life of 
a Christian wife and mother. 

The Superioress of the Sisters of the third order of 
St. Francis consulted her one day on the admission of 
a young' girl, who had requested to be admitted among 
them. Francesca had not seen or known any thing of 
the candidate, but unhesitatingly answered, that the 
vocation was not a real one, and she recommended that 
she should be refused. " She will enter another monas- 
tery," she added, '* and after remaining- in it a short 
time, will return to the world, and soon after she will 
die." It happened exactly as the Saint had foretold : 
Francesca da Fabrica went into the convent of Casa di 
Cento Finestre, on the shores of the Tiber, gave up the 
habit before the end of the year, and a sharp fever car- 
ried her off soon after her return. Gregorio and Gen- 
tilesca Selli had a little girl of four years old, who was 
paralysed, and up to her waist her frame appeared com- 
pletely withered. They had often been urged to have 
recourse to the spells or charms then so much in vogue. 



CH. XIII. I ST FRANCES OF ROME. i2S 

but had always refiised to seek a ])lessing- tliroiiglj 3ucl 
means. Tliev were carrvino' the Httle child to Franresca, 
iiill of faiTu in her prayers, which they were coming- to 
ask, when she exclaimed at the fii*st sight of them : 
" Haj)py are you who have not soug-lit your child's 
recovery in unlawful ways. In three dii^'S, my friends, 
she will be restored to health ; " and the prediction was 
fulfilled to the letter. 

It would be useless to multiply such recitals as these 
As she advances in years, especially since hei- retire 
meat at Tor di Specclii, more and more frecpient become 
the exercise of those su{)ernatural g-iTts with v.-hic!i 
(iod had endowed the gentle Saint of Rome. No day 
elapses that some new prodigy does not call forth tl^e 
giateful enthusiasm of the warm-hearted and devout 
Trasteverini. If a child is trodden under foot by a 
runaway liorse, Francesca is sent for, and at tlie siglit 
of the Saint he revives. If a young- boatman, in the prime 
of youth, is thrown into tlie Tiber, and carried away by 
the stream under the arches of the Ponte Korto, from 
whence his alflicted mother receives him into her arms 
without a symptom of life, she calls out to her friends 
" Run, run to the servant of God : g-o to Fi-ancesca 
dei Ponziano, and bid her pray for the boy." And 
when they return, the mother is weeping* still over her 
apparently lifeless child ; but they shout from a dis- 
tance, ''The servant of God says he will not die;" and 
in a few instants, Paul Guidolini opens his eyes, and 
smiles on his mother, who some years later becomes 
one of the Oblates of Tor di Specchi. Jf Francesca sits 
down for a moment to rest on the steps of a churcli, 
as she did one Good Friday, after the service at St. 
Peter's, a paralytic woman kneels at her feet, and 
obtains that she should lay lier hand on her withered 
limbs, which are instantlv restored. There is no illness 
on record which her prayers, or the touch of her hand, 
do(!S not dispel and subdtie. She restores sig'ht to the 
blind, the dumb speak, the deaf hear, tlie lame walk 
at her bidding-; pestilence and madness and fits and 



124 ST. FRANCES OF ROME, 

wounds and possession itself disappear before the powei 
with which Ahnightj God has endued her ; and she 
walks this eai-th of ours dispensing* blessings, as the 
faithful handmaid of Him who went about domg- 
good. 

At the same time, more and more ecstatic grew her 
prayers, more visible to all eyes the indwelling of the Holy 
Spirit in her soul, more removed from the natural con- 
ditions of existence the tenour of her life. At the hours 
of meals, which she observed in obedience to the rule, her 
cjnipanions notice that she hardly ever eats, but that 
her face is turned to the window, and her eyes fixed on 
the sky, wdiile rays of light seem to play ai-ound her, 
and her countenance gTows dazzling* from the celestial 
brightness which overspreads it. Longer and longer 
became her orisons ; often in visiting a church she falls 
into an ecstasy, wdiich lasts till nig*ht. The sublimity 
of her vision, the glimpses of heaven which she en- 
joys, the sight of angels, and of the Lord of angels, is 
occasionally exchanged for the terrific apparitions, the 
renewed assaults of Satan, who attack her at times wath 
redoubled violence, now that her ultimate triumph is at 
hand, and the crown about to descend on a brow which 
already shines with the mystic radiance of sanctity. 
The old frescoes of tlie original chapel of Tor di Speech! 
represent some of these mysterious struggles betw^een 
Francesca and the Evil One ; and her cell bears the im- 
press of that strange violence which Satan is permitted 
to exercise at certain moments, and w^hich is the type 
of the warfare which is ever waged between him and 
God's Church. He can shake it at times by the storms 
he raises; but vain are his attempts to overthrow it. 
The mark of Satan's fiuy is stamped on the roof of 
Francesca's lowty cell; but the relics of the canonised 
Saint now fill the chamber which, in his impotent rage, 
the tempter once sought to destroy. But this life of 
wonders, of trials, and of miracles, was drawing to a 
close, She who had been the holiest of maidens, of 
wive&j and of widows, had all but finished her course, 



nn. XIII.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 125 

find many were the intimations she received of her 
approaching- end. 

On one of" these occasions she selected one of the 
chapels in Santa Maria Nuova as a place of sepulture 
for the Oblates, and obtained from the Olivetan Monks 
that it should be reserved for that purpose. Slie often 
spoke of her death to the sisters, and told Rita, one of 
the companions of her youth, that she would succeed hei 
in the g-overnment of the congTCg'ation. Don Ippolito^ 
one of her coadjutors in the foundation of the order, had 
often implored two favours of her, that she would look 
upon him as her spiritual son, and that she wouia sum- 
mon him to her death-bed. She assured liim tliat the 
orayers of such a worthless sinner as hei-self were not 
(leserving* of a thouglit; but, moved by his impor- 
tunities, she promised in the end to comply with his 
request. According-ly, towards the end of the year 
l-i'Sd, when he was in Sienna on business, he received 
a letter from Francesca, in which she reminded him of 
his desire to be present at her last moments, and in 
consequence exhorted him to conclude his atfaii-s, and 
return to Rome as soon as possible, which he accord- 
ingly did. On Christmas-day and on the Feast of St. 
Stephen she .had visions of the Blessed Virg'in and of 
the infant Jesus, which she commimicated to Don Ip 
polito in the church of Santa Maria Nuova, whei-e she 
had gone on her way back from San Lorenzo without 
the Walls and St. John of Lateran, which she had suc- 
cessivelv visited. Tlie relio-ious said to her with enio- 
tion : " Mother, you will now gTant me the favour I 
have so often asked of you." 

^^ Yes," replied the Saint, who had been all day in 
a kind of ecstasy, though she moved from one place to 
another; *'yes; I look upon you now as my father, 
as my brother, and as my son." And so saying she 
left him, and returned to Tor di Specchi, still absorbed 
in contem})lation. 

Don Ippolito followed lier with his eyes till she had 
disappeared from his sight, and joy and son-ow wei** 



126 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

strug'g'lirjg' in liis heart ; for lie felt that the time was 
come for hor g-reat g-ain and her children's imspeakablfl 
loss. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

francesca's last illness and death. 

Francesca was fifty-six years old. Her frame, \vom 
out with labour, with fasting-s, and austerities, was 
enfeebled also ])y frequent illnesses; but her activity, 
her indomitable energy, was still the same. She never 
flagged, never wearied, never gave way imder the pres- 
sure of piiysical or moral sufferings. It was probably 
a trial of the latter description, one which she had 
always been keenly alive to, that hurried her end. 

A fresh schi-m broke out in the Church, to the 
sc?indal and grief of all the faithful. The reft-actory 
bishops assembled at Basle, ventured to decree the 
deposition of Pope Eugenius, and to elect as anti-pope 
the aged Amadeiis, Duke of Tuscan^', who had abdi- 
cated in favour of his son, and was living- as a hermit 
on the shores of the Lake of Geneva. The usurper took 
tlie name of Felix V., and this unhappy schism lasted 
ten years. Francesca tm-ned to heaven her weary eyes 
— she besouglit her Lord to take her away li-om this 
scene of trial : too keenly did she feel the woes of the 
Church ; too deeply did she sorrow over these renewed 
conflicts, and the conseouent dano^ers to which the souls 
of Christians were exposed. Perhaps it was given to 
her in that hour to foresee the fearfid storm that was 
lowering* over the Church, — the monster heresy that, 
in less than a century, was to rise against the Mystical 
Bride of Clirist, and rob her of her children. 

On the 3d of March, 1440, Francesca was sent foi 
b}" her son Baptista, who was laid up with a sharp at- 
tack of fever. She instant. y obeyed the summons ; and, 
on arriving- at the Ponziano palace, found him ali-eadj 



CH. XIV'.j P'l. fF..i.i^r,ES OF ROME. IJ7 

much better, and able to leave his bed ; but. at the ear- 
nest request of the wliole family, slie agreed lo ^pend 
the K'hole day with them, the Obhite Aug-ustina, who 
had accompanied her, also rcniciining- to return with her 
at ni<>ht. Towards evening- she <>Tew so weak that she 
could hardly stand; and Baptista and Mobilia implorea 
her to stay at the palace, or else to let herself be carried 
in a litter to the convent ; but she pcn-sisted in setting- 
out on foot. Stoj)ping' on her way at the church of 
Santa Maria in Trastevere, she went in to ask, i'ov the 
last time, her sjuritual father's blessing*, and found Don 
Giovanni in the Cha-pel of the Ang'els — that spot where 
she had so often been favoured with divine revelations. 
As he w^as inquiring- after Ba]»tista, he was struck with 
the more than habitual paleness of her face, and the 
evident exhaustion she was labouring' under, and com- 
manded her, as a matter of obedience, instantly to return 
to the Ponziano Palace, and to spend the night there. 
This order was a severe trial to Prancesca, for she felt 
at once that if she was not now to return to Tor di 
Specchi, she would never ag'ain enter those hallowed 
walls ; but, faithful to the spirit of perfect obedience, 
she meekly bowed her head in token of submission, and 
*\'ent back to her son's house. 

In the course of the nig-ht a virulent fever came on, 
and in the morning* she was as ill as possible. Fran- 
cesca's first care was to send for her director, and to 
request him to apprise her spiritual daughters of her 
dlness. Four of tliem (Ag*nese, Rita, Catlierina, and 
Anastasia,) hurried to her side ; and when tliey heard 
her entreat Don Giovanni not to omit any of the neces- 
sary precautions for her soul's welfare, they all burst 
mto tears, and seemed at once to understand tliat their 
neloved mother was about to leave them. Francesca 
g-ently consoled them, and dismissed them towards the 
evening*, only keeping* with her Aug'ustina, who watched 
ner during* the night, and witnessed the ecstasy durino 
which the following" vision was vouchsafed to the suf 
ferer : — Qui* Lord a])peared, surroimded with ano*els anff 



128 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

with saints, and announced to lier that in seven days 
she would die, and receive the crown which w^as pre- 
pared for her in heaven. Sister Augustina saw her face 
shining- with supernatural brightness ; a radiant smile 
playing* on her lips, and heard her say with ineffable 
unction : ^' Be Thou eternally praised and blessed, 
my dear Lord Jesus Christ ! Thanks be to Thee for tho 
unmerited favours I have received at Thy hands. To 
Thee, to Thee alone, do I owe all the blessings I have, 
and liave yet to receive." When Don Giovanni saw 
her afterwards, he imagined she was rallying ; but she 
related to him her vision, and ba.de him tell her daugh- 
ters that her end was approaching. Their tears and 
their sobs choked their utterance ; and the Saint gently 
reproved that excess of sorrow, and bade them rejoice 
with her, and bless the Divine goodness for the great 
mercy that was sliowm to her. During the next two 
days Siie suffered much ; but no word or sound of com* 
plaint escaped her. Her face was as serene as if her 
body had been perfectly free from pain ; and to those 
who expressed a hope that she would yet recover, she 
only answered with a sweet smile, " God be praised, 
my pilgrimage will end from Wednesday to Thursday 
next.* She asked for the Sacraments, confessed, went 
to communion, and received Extreme Unction. Ardent 
ejacidatoa-y prayers, devout aspirations, burning- expres- 
sions of love, were ever rising from her heart to her 
lips. Each day she repeated, as if she had been in per- 
fect health, the Office of the Blessed Virgin, the Rosary, 
and all her usual prayers. The Oblates watched by her 
in turns, and Mobilia hardly ever left her side ; so that 
the smallest pai-ticulars of that wonderful death-bed 
were carefully recorded. Francesca allowed all those 
who w^ished to see her to come in. She had words of 
advice, of warning, ajid of consolation for all. 

When the news of her illness was spread in Rome, 
the heart of the great city was stirred to its very depths, 
and a mournful, anxious, loving multitude beset the 
palace and the very bed of the dying Saint. Nowise 



CH. XIV.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 129 

disturbed or annoyed at this oppressive testimonj'- of 
their affection, she had a smile, or a look, or a kind 
word for each. No cloud obscured her understanding- j 
no irritability affected her temper. Peace was within 
and around her, and heaven's own calm on her brow 
and in her heart. The evil spirits, the arch-enemy him- 
self — who, for her sanctifi cation and the glory of God, 
had been permitted so often to haunt her path and 
assault her during- life — are banished now, and st-and at 
bay, g-azing-, no doubt, from afar, with envious rag-e, on 
that peace which they may no long-er mar. Don Gio- 
vanni, who had known so well her former trials, often 
inquired, during- her last illness, if Satan's ministers 
were molesting- iier. " No," she would answer, with a 
smile ; '' I see them no more. God has conquf^red ; His 
foes have fled.*' But the brig-lit archangel, wliose task 
is nearly at an end, is still at his post ; he weaves the 
last threads of the m^'stic woof, and seems to make 
haste to hnish his work. The halo of lig-ht which sm- 
rounds him g-rows brighter and blighter, and Fran 
cesca's dying- form reflects that splendour. 

On the Monday morning- siie is still in the same 
state. Glorious visions pass beibre her; divine forms 
bend over her, and whis])er words of welcome. Dm-ing" 
Mass, which her confessor says in her room, the Lord 
Himself a])pears to her ag-ain; and from the consecrated 
Host He s})eaks to her entranced soul. The Blessed 
Virg-in and the angels surround her, and the voices of 
the blest make sweet music in her ears. Late on that 
day, when her ecstasy was over, the weeping- Oblates 
surround her bed, and with suppliant accents inq)lore 
her to ask of God yet to leave her upon earth, for the 
sake of the souls intrusted to her care. It was a haid 
request: to have had a glimpse of heaven, and to turn 
back; to have tasted the cup of celestial bliss, and to 
draw back from its sweetness ! Full of love, of pitv, of 
resig-nation, of holy indifference, she exclaims : '' God's 
will is my will ; His good pleasure mine. If He choose* 

K 



130 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

me to tarry yet on earth, so be it then. T am ready ta 
remain in this miserable world, if He commands it.'^ 

But it was not ordained. The next day she ^ew 
rapidly worse, and from that time slept not ag'ain. ^* 1 
shall soon rest in God," she replied to those who were 
ui'g'ing' her to repose. The Oblates once more knee] 
aroimd her to receive her last instructions : one of them 
alone, Francesca dei Yeruli, is kept away by a severe 
illness, which confines her to her bed. Touching* were 
the last words of the dying* mothei to her spiritual 
children j sweet the words of blessing' she pronounced 
on theu' heads. Loj^e, love, was the burden of her 
teaching', as it had been that of the beloved disciple. 
" Love one another (she said), and be faithful untc 
death. Satan will assault you, as he has assaulted me,' 
but be not afraid. You w^ill overcome him through pa- 
tience and obedience; and no trial will be too grievous, 
if you are united to Jesus ; if you walk in His ways, 
He will be with you." Then with earnest accents she 
thanked Don Giovanni, in her own name and in that 
of the order, for all he had done to themj and com- 
mended the Oblates to his fatherly care. 

At that moment her son Baptista entered the room. 
His mother sat up in the bed, and g-azing- upon him 
with an expression of anxious scrutiny, she said : " Ana 
can it be that you quarrel with poor shepherds ? And 
do you rob God of His glory by unlawful dealings with 
hell ?" The persons who were standing- aroimd the bed 
looked at each other in surprise, and imagined that 
Francesca was delirious: but Baptista' s countenance 
and actions soon undeceived them. Tears rushed into 
his eyes, and with great emotion he publicly acknow- 
ledged tliat he had been guilty of striking, in his anger, 
some peasants who had injured his fields, and had gone 
*o consult ,in secret one of the persons who dealt in 
occidt sciences, as to the possibihty of his mother's re- 
covery. No one but himself knew of his twofold sin ; 
and the rebuke of the dying Saint came upon him as a 



CH. XV.] ST. FRANCES OF R( MK 131 

direct reproof from God. and an awful waiTiing for the 
rest of his life. As the day advanced, Francesca g-rew 
weaker and weaker ; but tlie flame of love was burning 
more brig'htlv, as that of life was waning*. " What are 
you saying* i*" asked Don Giovanni at one moment, on 
seeing- her lips move. '* The Vespers of tli^ Blessed 
Virgin," she answered in a scarcely audible voice. As 
an infant almost she had begun that practice ; and on 
the eve of her death she hacl not yet omitted it. On 
the seventh day of her illness, as she had herself an- 
nounced, her life came to a close. A sublime expres- 
sion animated her face ; a more ethereal beauty clothed 
her earthly form. Her confessor for the last time in- 
quires what it is her enraptured eyes behold, and she 
whispers, ''The heavens open! The ang-els descend! 
The archang-el has finished his task. He stands before 
me. He beckons to me to follow him." These ai-e the 
last words that Francesca utters ; a smile of indescW- 
bable brightness beams from her face. The eyes tliai, 
have so long- been closed to the vanities of life are now- 
closed in death, and her spirit has taken its final leave 
of eai'th. 



CHAPTER XV. 

FRANCESCA'S funeral, and HEU subsequent CANOMSAnON- 

The body of the Saint remained during* a nig-ht and a 
day at the Ponziano palace, the Oblates watching by 
turns over the beloved remains. Their grief was tem- 
pered with joy, for they felt she was in heaven ; thoug-h 
the pang* of separation was keen, and their home on 
eai'th desolate. Don Giovanni, Don Ippolito, and Don 
Francesco dello Schiano recited the prayers of tlie Church 
over the corpse; and though deeply ailected themselves, 
Btrove to console the beroavea sisterhood, chi.elly by 
extolling* the rare merits and the heroic virtues of their 
depai-ted mother. Almighty God vouchsafed, even 



189 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

during* the first nig'bt of their loving- watcli. to givt 
them a proof of that sanctity which was so soon to be 
triumphantly demonstrated. vSister Marg-aret, of the 
tliird order of St. Frances, had been present at Fran- 
cesca's death, and remained by her side during* the 
night that follo^7ed. Her arm had been paralysed for 
six months, and to all appearance withered. Inspired 
mth a lively faith, she touched the body of tlie Saint, 
and was mstantaneously cured. The Oblates all fell 
on their knees at the sight of this miracle, and blessed 
God for the earnest He thus g-ave of the wonders which 
Francesca's intercession was to accomplish. Each 
moment they were coniirmed in the blessed assurance 
of her immediate admission into heaven : each moment 
brouoiit with it a new occasion for jovful exrJtation. 
The sweet perfume, the " odour of sanctity," which ex- 
pression is so often supposed to be simply metaphorical, 
whereas it often indicates an actual physical and mira- 
culous fact, soon pervaded the room and filled it with 
frag'rance. Francesca's face, which had rccuntly borne 
the traces of ao-e and of sufferino*, became as beautiful 
again as in the days of youth and prosperity ; and the 
astonished bystanders gazed with wonder and awe at 
that unearthly loveliness. Many of them carried away 
particles from her clothes, and employed them for the 
cure of several persons who had been considered beyond 
ihe possibility of recovery. In the course of the day, 
the crowd augmented to a deg'ree which alarmed the 
inhabitants of the palace, and Baptista took measures 
to have the body removed at once to the church ; and 
a procession of the regidar and secular clergy escorted 
f:he venerated remains to Santa Maria Nuova, where 
:hey were to be interred. 

The popular feelmg burst forth on the occasion ■ it 
was no long'er to be restrained : a sort of pious insm'- 
rection, wliich the Church smiles upon, even though it 
refuses to sanction it ; as a mother can scarcely rebuke 
a somewhat irregular action in one of her children 
when it springs from a generous feeling, even though 



en. XV.J ST. FRANCES OF ROME. iS.: 

she feels herself bound to cheek it. '' Francesea was a 
saint — Francesea was in hea\^en." Francesea "was in- 
voked bv the crowd, and her beloved name was heard 
in every street, in every piazza, in every corner of t])£ 
Eternal Citv. It flew from mouth to mouth ; it seemed 
to float in the air, to be borne aloft by tlie grateful 
enthusiasm of a wliole people, who had seen her walk 
to that church by her mother's side in her holy cliild- 
hood ; wlio liad seen her knee^ at that altar in the g-rave 
beauty of womanhood, in the hour of bereavement, and 
now in death ; carried thither in state, she the g-entle, 
the humble Saint of Rome, the poor woman of the 
Trastevere, as she was sometimes called at her oavh 
desire. 

Francesea dei Veruli, tlie Oblate whom illness had 
detained from tlie death-bed of her beloved motlier, 
hears from her sick-room the confused hum of voices, 
the sound of hurrying- feet, which indicate the approach 
of the procession. Full of faitli, she starts up, amJ 
with clasped hands exclaims, *' Oh, my mother ' oh, 
Francesea! I have not seen you die; I have mt re- 
ceived your last blessing-; obtain for me now that I 
may visit your remains." With a violent effort, and 
leaning- on one of her sisters, slie contrives to i ise and 
to make her way to the bier. The very instant she has 
touched it, her health and strength return. Meanwhile 
the crowd aug-ments, and hurries into the church. They 
press round the precious body ; they refuse to let it be 
buried. As a favour, as a boon of the g-reatest price, 
they obtain that the obsequies be put off to the Satur- 
day : r.nd in the meantime, day and night, there is 
no limit to the concourse of people that assemble in the 
chapel. Still the saintly body exhales its ])erfume; 
still the sweet features retain their beauty ; and to that 
spot, in an apparently never-ending- succession, come 
the blind, and the lame, and the halt, and the sick, and 
the sulfering-; and each of those who touch the bier, oi 
to whom is carried sumethinj'- that has belonffed io 
Fraucesca, is instantaneously cuied. Truly God wm 



134 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

wonderful in tins His Saint, and wonderful are tbfl 
details of tlie miracles wrought during' those days; 
and not only were the ills of the body relieved by con- 
tact with the holy corpse, but gi-ace reaches the souls 
of many who have been hitherto steeled ag-ainst its 
entrance. 

Amongst others, two young men of dissolute lives 
and irreligious spirits, on hearing of the miracles at 
Santa Maria Nuova. beg n to jeer and laugh on the sub- 
ject^ and, moved only by curiosity, go to the church, 
approach the bier with mock demonstrations of respect. 
But no sooner have they knelt before it, than their hearts 
are simultaneouslv touched: a sudden cliano'e comes 
over them. Having come to scoii, they remain to pray, 
— ^they rise from their knees only to seek a confessor; 
and return home that night converted to God, and ever 
after lead the lives of pious Christians. The miracles 
wrought before and after Francesca's burial are so mul- 
tifarious, that it might be tedious (a strange word to 
use on such an occasion, but nevertheless correct) to 
attempt to relate them all. Great was the moral effect 
of this singular outpouring of God's powers thi-ough 
His servant. Faith grew more timid, and hope more 
strong; charity burned in the hearts of many with an 
ever-increasing' fervour ; and the examples which the 
Saint had given, and which were now dv/elt upon with 
aifectionate veneration, induced many to walk in the 
same path, and look to the same end. It v/a? in Lent 
that she had died ; and from every pulpit in Rome her 
praises were heard. The most eminent ecclesiastics of 
the time all foretold her canonisation ; and the public 
voice and the public devotion ratified the burst of po- 
pular enthusiasm tliat had huiied her as a Saint on the 
very day of her death, and long preceded the formal 
recognition of her sanctity by the authority of the 
Church. 

A few months after her death, her tomb was opened 
in order to remove the corpse into a monument which 
Baptista, Mobilia, and several Roman noblemen had 



CH. XV.] ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 135 

erected in her lion our. It was found in a state of per- 
fect preservation, and still exlraling- the same fragrance 
as before. The most exact and detailed examinations 
were taken in the year of her death, both as to all the 
particulars of her life, and as to the supernatural and 
miraculous events which had marked its course, as well 
as those which had succeeded her death. 

From time to time earnest endeavours were made 
'JO hasten Vw formal canonisation. The materials were 
ample, and the evidence com])lete; hut a variety ot 
cii'cumstances interfered with the conclusion of the pro- 
cess; and thoug-h several Popes, namely, Eug-enius IV., 
Nicholas v., Pius 11., Innocent VIII., and Juhus II., 
promoted the question, it was not much advanced till 
the accession of Clement VIII., who had a g-reat devo- 
tion to the Saint, and brouo-ht the matter nearlv to a 
close ; but his death occurring- in the meantime, and his 
successor, Leo XI., only outliving- him twenty-seven 
days, it was Paul V. (Borghese) who decreed the 
canonisation of Francesca, to the joy of the Oblates 
of Tor di Speech!, of the monks of Santa Maria Nuova, 
and of the whole people of Rome. Her festival was 
appointed to be kept on the 9th of March ; and tliose 
who have been in Ilome on tliat day can tell how vivid 
is the devotion thtit still exists, — the worship that is 
yet paid to the holy Francesca, the beloved Saint of 
the Trastevere, the model of Christian matrons ; and in 
the church of Santa Francesca Romana, as the old 
Santa Maria Nuova is now called, and in the Casa dei 
Esercizii Pii (the old Ponziano Palace), and in the 
time-honoured walls of Tor di Specchi, a tribute of 
love and of devotion is yielded, which touches the heart, 
and carries the mind back to the days when, amidst 
the strife of war and the miseries of anarchy, faith, 
fresh, strong, and pure, asserted its power, and wroug-ht 
Wonders throug-h such feeble instruments as a woman's 
heart and a woman's works. 

On the 29th of May, 1608, in i\\e church of St. Peter, 
then lately erected, and adorned for the occasion with 



136 ST. FRANCES OF ROME. 

the utmost magnificence, after a pontifical Higli Mass, 
in the presence of the Sacred GoUeg'e;, and of an immense 
affluence of strang-ers as well as of Romans, the decree 
was proclaimed which placed Francesca amongst the 
canonised saints, and sanctioned the worship which a 
devout people had paid her, with hut few interruptions, 
since the day of her death. Rome was illuminated that 
nig'ht ; the fiery cupola of St. Peter, and the sound of 
innumerable hells, told the neighbouring plains and hills 
that " God had regarded the lowliness of His hand- 
maiden," and that, in her measure, all generations were 
to call her Blessed. 

In 1638, the tomb of Francesca, which, in conse- 
quence of some alterations in the chm'ch, had remained 
out of sight for a great number of years, was, through 
the pious exertions of the Oblates, assisted by the abbot 
of Santa Maria Nuova, and the Cardinals Borghese, 
Barberini, and Altiere, discovered in the spot where it 
had been placed two centuries before. Her bones were 
exposed to the veneration of the faithful, and a number 
of religious processions and services took place on the 
occasion. Various miracles again gave testimony to 
the virtues of those holy relics, and a mag*nificent mo- 
nument was erected beneath that altar where the Saint 
had so often prayed. 




BLESSED LUCY OF NARNL 



139 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNL 

It was towards tlie latter end of tlie 15tli centujy thai 
Lucia Broccoletti was born in the ancient city of Narni, 
in Umhria, where her father's house had long* held a 
noble and disting'uished nuik. Even as a baby in the 
cradle, there were not wanting- sig'ns which marked her 
as no ordinar}^ child ; and if we may credit the accoimt 
given us by her old biog-ra})hers, both her nurses and 
mother were accustomed to see her daily visited by on 
unknown relig'ious dressed in the Dominican habit, 
whose majestic ap})earance seemed something* more 
than human, and who, taking- her from her cradle, 
embraced her tenderly, and g'ave her lier blessing. 
They watched closely, to see whence this mysterious 
visitor came and whither she went, but were never 
able to follow her; and the mother becoming- at length 
alarmed at the daily recurrence of this circumstance, it 
was revealed to her that her child's unknown visitor 
was no other than St. Catherine of Sienna, to whom 
she was given as an ado})ted daughter. 

The accounts that have been ])reserved of Lucia's 
childhood have a ])eculiar interest of their own. Whilst 
the earl}' biogTa})hies of many saints present us with 
instances of extraordinary graces and favours granted 
to them in infancy, quite as numerous and remarkal)le 
as those bestowed on Blessed Lucy, yet in her case we 
linii them mixed with the details of a characteristic 
vivacity of temperament, which give them a lifelike 
reality, and show her to us, in the midst of her su})er- 
natural visitations, with all the impetuosity of an ima- 
ginative child. When she was only four years old, her 
mother's brother, Don Simon, came on a visit to his 
sister's house, and brought with him from Rome vari- 
ous toys and presents for the children. Lucy waa 



140 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 

given her clioicej and whilst the others were louiilj 
clamoui'ing for the dolls and puppets, she selected a 
Kttle rosary with an image of the Child Jesus ; and 
this being; given to her, she took it in her arms, be- 
stowing every name of childish endearment on it, kiss- 
ing its hands and feet, and calling it her dear Christa- 
rello, a name which continued to be given to it ever 
af"terwards. The rest of the day she spent in her own 
little room, where she arranged a corner for the recep- 
tion of the Christarello, and was never tired of seeing 
and caressing her new treasure. Henceforth it was 
here that she spent the happiest moments of the day. 
If ever she got into any trouble in the house, it was 
here she came to pour out all her sorrow; and the inno- 
cent simplicity of her devotion was so pleasing to God, 
that more than once He permitted that the Christarello 
should wipe away the tears which she shed on these 
occasions with His little hand, as was several times 
witnessed by her mother, who watched her throug-h 
the half-open door. As she grew a little older, she 
began to accompany her mother to church ; and tliej 
frequently went to visit the great church of St. Augus- 
tine, which was close to the house where they lived. 
Now it happened that in this church, among other de- 
vout imag'es, there was a small bas-relief of the Blessed 
Virgin holding her Divine Son in her arms, which took 
the child's fancy the lirst time they entered, so that 
she stopped to look at it. Her mother observed her as 
she lingered behind : " Lucy," she said, '^ do you knew 
who that beautiful lady is whom you see there ? She 
is the Mother of your Christarello ;, and the little Child 
whom she carries in her arms is the Christarello also. 
If you like, we will come here sometimes ; and you shall 
bring the rosary you are so fond of, and say it before 
her image." Lucy was delighted at the idea; and 
whenever she could escape from her nurse's hand?, she 
found her way to the church, to admire this new object 
of her devotion. One day, being thus occupied, the 
thought came into her head, how much she would like 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI.^ 14i 

to hold the Chris tarello for once in her own iirms, as 
she had learnt to hold her little baby brother. She 
therefore prayed to the Blessed Virgin with great 
earnestness tliat her request might be granted, and 
immediately the marble li^-nre of the little Jesus was 
extended to her by His Mother, and placed in her 
arms. Nor was this all : no sooner had she received 
her precious burden, than she felt the cold marble be- 
come a living Child j and, full of delight, she ran home 
Btill carrying Ilim; and though she met many people 
on the way, wlio sto[)ped her as she hurried along, ani 
tried to take Him from her, she succeeded in getting 
safe to her own room at home, where she shut lierself 
up with her treasure, and remained with Him for three 
days and nights without food or sleep, insensible to all 
the entreaties and remonstrances of her astonisljed 
mother. Conquered at length by fiitigue, on the tliiid 
day she fell asleep ; and when she woke she became sen- 
sible of the truth that God abides only with those who 
watch with Him ; for, on opening her eyes, the first 
thing she perceived was that the Christarello was gone 
Her cries of tlistress were heard by her mother, wlio, 
to console her, carried her once more to the church; 
and there they found the marble child restored to the 
image as before, although for the three previous days 
its place in the ai'ms of the Virgin's figure had been 
empty. 

She was accustomed from tmie to time to pay a 
visit to the uncle before mentioned, and when about 
seven years old she went as usual to spend some time 
with him at his country house. She remembered, on 
the occasion of a former visit, to have seen a room in 
some part of the house where there were some little 
angels painted on the walls, as it seemed to her, hold- 
ing their hands and dancing ; and the first morning 
after her arrival, she determined to set out on a dili- 
gent search after the dancing angels. The room in 
which they were painted was in a wing of the house 
which had fallen out of repair, and was no longer u?ed 



142 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI 

by the family ; a staii'case had led to the upper storVv 
hut this was now fallen and in ruins ; and thoug"h Lucy, 
as she stood at the bottom, could see the little ang-ela 
on the wall above her head, all her efforts were un- 
availing- *o climb the broken stahcase and reach tha 
object of her search. She had recourse to her usual 
expedient, prayer to the Christarello, and instantly 
found herself in the empty room, without well know- 
ing* how she came there. But her thoughts were soon 
biisy with the angels. There they were ; little winged 
children, their heads garlanded with llowers, their 
mantles floating as it seemed in the air; and they 
danced with such an air of enjoyment and superhuman 
gi'ace, that Lucy sat on the ground before them, ab- 
sorbed in admiration. As she sat thus, she heard her 
own name called from the window. She tm-ned round, 
expecting- to see her imcle or some of the servants of 
the house ; but a very different spectacle met her eye. 
A glorious company of saints and angels stood round 
the Person of Jesus Himself. On His right was His 
Virgin ^I other; on His left, St. Catherine and the 
gTeat Patriarch St. Dominic, with mam^ others. Then 
those mystic espousals were celebrated which we read 
of in so many other tales of the Saints of God : tlie 
Divine Spouse receiving the hand of the delighted child 
from His Blessed Mother, placed a ring on her finger, 
which she preserved to the hour of her death; after 
which He assigned her to the special g-uardianship of 
St. Dominic and St. Catherine, whom from that day 
she always was used to call her ^' father and mother." 
'^ And have vou nothino- to "'ive Me ?" He then asked 
of His little Spouse; " will you not give Me that silk 
mantle and pretty necklace ?" Lucy was dressed in 
the rich fashion of the day, with a crimson damask 
mantle over her other garments, and a necklace of gold 
and coral beads about her neck ; but at these words of 
her Spouse, she hastily stripped them oft", and lay them 
at IL's feet He did not fail, however, to give her a 
fichev di'ess in their place; for she had ro sooner takeu 



BLESSED LUCY 01 NARNI. 143 

off iLe silk mantle, tlmn St. Dominic clothed her with 
the scapular of liis order, which she continued to wear 
during- the rest of her life under her other clothes. 
When the vision had disappeared, Lucy found herself 
fiill of a new and inexpressible joy. She turned to the 
little angels on the wall, the only companions lel't her 
after the last of the heavenly train had faded from her 
eyes, and with the simplicity of her childish g-lee, she 
S})oke to them as though they were alive. " You dear 
little angels," she said, " are you not glad at what our 
Lord has doTie?" Then the angels seemed to move 
from the wall, and to become, indeed, full of life ; and 
they sj)oke to her in rei)ly, and said they were very 

flad to have her for their queen and lady, as the 
pouse of their dear Lord. And they invited her to 
join in their dance of joy, and sang so sweet and har- 
monious a music, and held out their hands so kindly 
and graciously, that Lucy would have been well con- 
tent never to have left her happy place of retreat ; nor 
would she liave done so, if she had not been found by 
her uncle, and cai-ried against her will back to the 
house. 

The death of her father, left her whilst still young, 
to the guardiansliip of her uncle. All her own wishes 
were fixed on a life of religion, but her uncle had dif- 
ferent views for her ; and after long resistance on her 
pai-t., he succeeded in inducing her to accept as her 
husband Count Pietro of Milan, a young nobleman of 
considerable worth and abilities. The marriage was 
accordingly celebrated ; but not until, in answer to ear- 
nest prayers, Lucy had received a divine revelation that 
a Hfe so contrary to all her own wishes and intentions 
was indeed God's will rea-ardinq- her. 

Doubtless it is one of those cases in which it is not 
easy for us to follow the ways of Divine Providence 
The marriage was followed by much suffering to both 
parties; yet, if we be willing* to take the Saints' lives 
as they are given us, without seeldng to reduce the 
Bupernatmal elements we find in them to the level of 



144 BLESSED LUCT OF NARNI. 

our own understanding-, we shall not be disposed to 
douLt the trut]i of the revelation which commanded it, 
or to fancy thino-s would have been much better if 
Blessed Lucy had never been placed in a position so 
little in harmon}" with her own wishes. On the con- 
trary, we must admire the grace of God, which would 
perhaps never have been so amply manifested in His 
servant, had she been called to a more cong-emal way of 
life. We are accustomed to admire the wonderful 
variety of examples which are presented to us in the 
Hves of the Saints : that of Blessed Lucy offers us one 
of a soul with all her sympathies and desu-es fixed on 
the higiier life of religion, yet fidfiUing with perfect 
exactitude the minutest duties of a different vocation. 
She sanctified herself in the will of God, thougii that 
will was manifested to her in a position which the world 
is used to call the hardest of all to bear — an ill-assorted 
marriag-e. She found means to practise the humiliation 
of the cloister, without laying- aside the duties, or even 
the becomino- dio'uity, of her station. 

Her first care, on finding- herself the young* mistress 
of a house full of servants, was with tliem, whom she 
ever looked on less as menials than as a cherished 
portion of hei' family. And in the beautiful account 
g-iven us of her intercourse with them, we must re- 
member that at the period in which she lived, it was 
considered nothing- uncommon or unbecoming- for ladies 
of the hig-hest rank to join in the household occupations, 
and take their part in the day's employment, working 
with their servants, and presiding- amongst them with 
an affectionate familiarit}^, which, without rendering 
them less a mistress, gave them at the same time 
almost the position of a mother. Blessed Lucy de- 
lighted in the opportunities, which the simple manners 
of the day thus afforded her, of laying- aside her rich 
dress and ornaments, and assisting in her own kitchen, 
where she always chose the meanest and most tiresome 
offices. "What was with others only done in compliance 
with the ordinary habit of the day, was with her made 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARXI. 146 

the occasion of secret humiliations. One of liei servant?, 
a woman of very holy life and disposition, she took into 
her coniidence, submitting* herself to her du-ection, and 
oheying- her as a religious superior. On Holy Thursday, 
she washed the feet of all her domestics ; and that with 
so touching' a devotion as to draw tears from the eyes 
of tlie rudest and most indiflerent among* them. So 
pel Feet was the discipline she succeeded in introducing" 
an:Dng' them, that, far from presenting- tlie spectacle of 
disorder so common in households filled witli a crowd of 
feudal retainers of all kinds, her palace had the quietude 
and serenity of a monaster}'. Never was an oath or 
licentious word heard among* them 5 the name of God 
was honoured ; and habits of devotion became cherished 
and familiar, where before they had been too often an 
occasion of mockery. All the family dined at the same 
table ,' and during- the repast the Lives of the Saints, 
or the Holy Scrijitures, were read aloud. If any fiiuit 
wero committed by any of the household, Blessed Lucy 
knew how to punish it so rigorously as to prevent a re- 
petition of tlie otfene; and in this she was often assisted 
by the g-ift of prophecy, which she enjoyed in a remark- 
able degree. We read an amusing* account of two of 
her maidens, who took the opportunity of their mistress's 
absence at church to kill two tine capons, which they 
resolved to dress privately for their own eating-. The 
birds were already on the spit, when their mistress was 
heard entering* the house. Fearful of discovery, they 
took the half-roasted capons from the fire, and hid tliem 
under a bed. Blessed Lucy, however, knew all that 
had lia])pened. " Where are the capons," she said, 
^^that were in the court this morning-.'*" *^Thev have 
flown away," said the two women, in g:reat coniiision • 
" we have been looking- for them every where." " Do not 
try to deceive God, my children," replied Blesseri 
Lucy : " they are both under 3'our bed ; if you will 
follow me, I will show them to you." The servants 
followed her in silent dismay ; but their astonishment 
ras still more increased, when not only did she le&d 

L 



146 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 

tliem to tlie very place where tliey liad hidden theii 
spoils, hut calling the hirds to come out^ they flew out 
alive, and hei^'an to crow lustily. 

In another story of her life, we find her represented 
with her women wasliing- the linen of the house hy the 
side of a river that flowed hy the castle. Whilst so 
eng'ag'ed, one of them fell into the river and sank to the 
bottom ; but Blessed Lucy made the sig-n of the ci-oss 
over the water, and immediately the drowning- woman 
appeared on the surface safe and sound, close to the 
river's hank. 

And in the midst of these simple and homely occu- 
pations, the supernatural life of prayer, and ecstacy, and 
communion with God, was never for a moment inter- 
rupted. Strangle and beautiful sig-hts were seen bj 
many of tliose who were present in the cliurch when 
she communicated : sometimes a column of Are rested 
on her head; sometimes her face itself shone and sparkled 
like the sun. Once two little children, whom she had 
adopted as her ovm, saw, as they knelt behind her, 
two ang-els come and crown then- mother with a garland 
of exquisite roses. But the children began to weep ; 
for they said one to another, " Certainly our mother 
cannot have Ions; to live, for the ano-els are even now 
crowning her with flowers." 

The beauty of her face, and its extraordinary bril- 
liancy at these times, had a sing'idar ])ower in control- 
ling those who beheld it. Even Count Pietro Iiimself was 
tamed and conquered by a glance from her eye, when it 
shone with this more than human splendour. 

This mention of Coimt Pietro's name reminds us that 
it is time we should sav somethino,- of him, and of his 
share in a story which has in some parts, as we read it, 
the character of a romance. He was not a bad man ; he 
seems indeed to have had many good qualities, and to 
have been possessed in some respects of a degree of refine- 
ment beyond what was common at the time. Pie was 
sinceiely attached to his saintly wife: but he could not 
iindei stand her. They were beings of different vorlds; 



BLESSED LUCY OF XARNl. 147 

and the very qualities wliicli extorted liis respect and 
admiration often sadly perplexed and worried him. Her 
very affection for himself was above his comprehension; 
his own feeling's were too much mude up of tlie ordinary 
selfishness of the world, for him to know how to mea- 
sure the love of one whose love was in God. lie felt 
her povrer over himself; and whilst he yielded to it, it 
irritated him, and not the less because there was nothing 
of which lie could complain. This irritation showed 
itself in a morose jealousy, sometimes varied by fits of 
passionate violence; in which he went so far as to con- 
nne his wife to her room, and once even to threaten her 
life. 

All this, and the yet more wearing- trial of their 
daily intercourse, was borne by Blessed Lucy with un- 
varvin"- sweetness and f>-entleness. But thonp-li slie ac- 
commodated herself in every thing- to his sidlen temper, 
and even showed him a true and loyal obedience, the 
desire after those heavenly espousals to whicli slie liad 
been promised whilst still a child never left her heart ; 
and as time went on, she beg-an to look al'out for some 
opportunity of carrying' her wishes into effect. In those 
days it was no uncommon spectacle to see a wife or a hus- 
band, in obedience to the ulterior call of heaven, aban- 
don every tie of flesh and blood for the retirement of 
the cloister ; nor was the propriety of such a ste[) ever 
questioned. Society, as a body, in the ag'es of faith, 
acknowledg'ed the principle, that one wliom Christ calls 
should leave all and follow Him. When, therefore, we 
hear that Blessed Lucy at length resolved to leave her 
husband's house, and take the habit of relig'ion in the 
Order of St. Dominic, we must remember that she was 
no more acting- contrary to the custom of the ag'e, 
than when she worked with her servants in the kitchen. 
It is not an easy matter at any time for us to judge 
of the vocation or conscience of anotlier : but wlien 
we have to carry back our investigration four hundred 
years, we can hardly hope that the whole histor}^ of a 
resolution of this natiu'e, — wli} it was cai-ried out n )W, 



148 BLESSED LUCY OF NARt^I. 

and wliy it was not carried out before hei marriag-e,— 
should be laid open before us like the pages of a book. 
Of one thing" only we cannot doubt, — God's wi.^ had 
been very clearly and sufficiently declared j both at first, 
when she consented to give up her own wishes^ and 
now, when the time was come for them to be granted. 
She contented herself at first with receiving' the habit 
of the third order, and remaining- in her mother's house 
for a year J during- which time she had to endure much 
^'om the indig-nation of her husband, who expressed his 
own disapproval of her step in a very summary way, 
by burning- down the monastery of the prior who had 
»-iven her the habit. But her uncles at leng-th took tlie 
^ase inxo their own hands ; and after considering- tno 
very extraordinary sig*ns of a divine call which had 
ceen made manifest in her life, they decided that she 
iUouid be suffered to follow it without further molesta- 
tion, and placed her in the monas^tt^ry of St. Catherine 
of Sienna at Rome. 

Within a year fi*om her entrance there, the fame of her 
sanctity had become so imiversal, that Father Joachim 
Turriano, the General of the Order, being- about to found 
a new convent of nuns at Viterbo, selected her as the 
prioress of the new foundation; on which office she ac- 
cordingly entered in the year 1496, being-then exactly 
twenty years of age. So great was the reputation she 
enjoyed, that though the number of religious sent with 
her to Viterbo by the g-eneral was only five, the crowds 
that applied for admission as soon as her presence was 
Ss:nown was so great that the convent had to be en- 
larged ; and she soon saw herself at the head of a 
numerous and flourishing- community. 

Meanwhile, her unhappy husband had not abandoned 
ill hopes of inducing her even yet to return to the 
tvorld. He had followed her to Kome, and made vain 
efforts to see and speak with her : he now followed her 
also to Viterbo ; and though unsuccessftil in his attempts 
',0 obtain the slightest answer to his continual applica- 
tions and appeals, he continued to ling-er about the con- 



BLESSED LUCY OF NAilNI. 149 

\eni, in the restless mood of one wlio would not give 
up Ills design as hopeless. Every tongue around him 
was busy with the fame of Lucy's sainthness; from 
one he heard of her almost continual prayer, from 
another, of the giory which was seen to hover over her 
face in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament : hut 
soon, in the February following* her removal to Viterbo, 
the interest of all was aljsorbed in a new report, — tlmt 
she had received the sacred stig*mata; and that in so 
remarkable a manner as to put all doubt on the subject 
out of the question. For it was in the choir, with tlifl 
other religious, that, being* engaged in profound medi- 
tation on the Passion, she was observed by one of the 
sisters to look pale and as if suffering" acute pain. The 
sister went up to her to support her, and was struck 
with the appearance of her hands, the bones of which 
seemed dislocated, and the nerves torn. " Mother of 
God !" she exclaimed, "■ what is the matter with your 
hands ?" " Nothing," was the faint reply ; " they are 
only gone to sleep." But within a few moments the 
agony she was enduring and endeavouring to conceal 
overpowered her, and she became perfectly senseless. 
They earned her from the choir and restored her to 
consciousness, so tliat she was able to return within an 
hour and receive Holy Communion ; but the same 
sister who liad first observed her, being convinced some- 
thing very extraordinary had happened, continued to 
watch her, and followed her to her cell. She then re- 
marked that her hands were livid, and the skin raised 
and much inflamed ; and by the end of the week the 
wounds became large and open, and shed so gi*eat an 
abundance of blood tliat it could no longer be con- 
cealed. The e citement which followed, when these 
circumstancon became generally kno\vu, can hardly be 
described. A minute investigation was first made by 
the Bishop of Viterbo ; after wliicli tln-ee successive 
commissions of inquuy were appointed by the com- 
mand of the Pope to examine the affair, and each of 
these inquiries terminated in the declaration that th« 



150 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 

trutli of the miracle was beyond all dispute. Multi- 
tudes flocked to the conA^ent to see and touch thfl 
sacred wounds, and came back full of the wonders 
which their own eyes had witnessed. Duke Hercules 
of EstC; the Pope's nephew, made earnest applications 
to his uncle to suffer her to be removed to his own 
city of Ferrara j and whilst all these thing-s were g'oingr 
on, Count Pietro still remained in Viterbo. 

The world about him was echoing- with his wife's 
renown, but none knew his own connection with her. 
Each marvel that he heard did but seem to widen the 
gulf between them; yet still he stayed and lingered 
within sight of the walls that shut her from him for 
ever : now bitterly accusing liimself for the blindness 
of his own conduct towards her ; now striving to keep 
alive a kind of despairing hope that, could he but once 
gain admittance to her presence, he might even yet 
regain possession of a treasure which, when it was his, 
he knew not how to value. At length his desires were 
granted. A sudden inspiration induced Lucy to con- 
sent to an interview : it was the first that had taken 
place since she had fled fi-om his house, and it was the 
last they ever had in this life. 

It must have been a singular meeting-; the two 
years of their separation had altered both. As to the 
Count, his restless despair had worn him to an old 
man. He had never seen Narni since the day of her 
departure for Rome, whither he had followed her ; and 
had spent the long days of those two years hanging 
about the convent-gates like some miserable beggar. 
And the same two years had placed Lucy far beyond 
his reach, as it were in a supernatural world above 
him. When she stood before him at the grate, and he 
beheld her marked with those sacred and mysterious 
wounds, and bearing in her whole appearance the air 
of one whose sympathies were for ever removed fi:*om 
the aflections of humanity, his heart failed him. He 
had thought to speak to her of her home, and the 
claims which should recal her to the world ; he saw 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 15] 

before him sometliing' a little lower than the ang-els ; 
and falling* on his knees, he bent his eves to the 
ground, and remained silent. Then she spoke ; and hea • 
ven seemed to speak to him bj her voice. The mists 
of earthly passion rolled away from his heart ai^ he 
listened; the world and its hopes died in him at thac 
moment ; an extraordinary strug-gle tore his very soul, 
then passed away, and left it in a profound calm. For 
the nrst time he caug-ht a g-limpse of that reality 
which till now he had treated as a dream ; the world 
and its unquiet joys were now themselves the dream, 
and heaven opened on him as the reahty. All hfe fell 
away from him in that hour ; and when his wife ceased 
speaking', she had won his soul to God. He dragg-ea 
himself to her feet, and bathed them in his tears ; h^ 
conjured her pardon for all the persecutions and vio- 
lence of the past, and renounced every rig-ht or claim 
over her obedience for ever. Then, leaving- her with- 
out another word, he obeyed the voice which had so 
powerfidly spoken to his heart; for within a few weeks 
ne took the habit of the Friars ]\Iinor of tlie strict ob 
servance ; and persevering in it for many j^eai-s, died ^ 
little before his wife, with the reputation of sanctiH. 

Were this a romance, the story of Bli<sed Lucy 
mig-ht well end here. But her life was jet scarcely 
begun. Shortly after the interview with her husband 
just spoken of, Duke Hercules obtained the Pope'.> 
orders lor her removal to Ferrara. This was only 
done by stealth ; for the people of Yiterbo having got 
intelhgence of the design, guarded the city night a: id 
day ; so that, in order to gain possession of the Saint, 
the duke was reduced to the expedient of loading 
several mules with large baskets, as if fidl of goods ; 
and in one of these Blessed Lucy was concealed and 
carried off, under tbe guardianship of a strong ])ody of 
ai'med men. Being arrived at Feri-ara, the duke re- 
ceived her with extraordinary honours, and built a 
magnificent convent for her reception, to which Popf 



162 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 

Alexander VI. gi'anted sing-ular privileg"es, bj a hviet 
irherein he declared lier to have " followed the foot- 
steps of St. Catherine of Sienna in all things." In this 
convent she gave the habit to her own mother, as well 
as to many noble ladies of Ferrara. 

It were too long to tell of all the signs of Divine 
favour which were granted to her during the first years 
of her new government ; of the miracles wrong'ht by 
her hands, the visions of marvellous beauty that were 
given to her gaze ; and the famiharity with which she 
seemed to live among' the saints and angels. Thus one 
day, passing into the dormitory, she was met by the 
figure of a religious, whom she knew to be St. Cathe- 
rine of Sienna. Prostrating herself at her feet, she 
prayed her to bless the new monastery, which was de- 
dicated in her name. The saint willingly complied, 
and they went through the house together; Blessed 
Lucy carrying the holy water, whilst St. Catherine 
sprinkled the cells, as the manner is in blessing a 
house. Whilst they went along, they sang togetlier 
the hymn Ave 3£aru Stella; and having finished, 
St. Catherine left her staff with Blessed Lucy, and 
took her leave. And another time they saw in the 
same dormitory a great company of angels, and the 
form of one of surpassing beauty, and clad in an azure 
robe in the midst of them, standing among them as 
their queen. Then she sent them hither and thither, 
like soldiers to their posts, and bid them guard the 
various oinces of the monaster}^ ; '^ for," she said, '^ we 
must take possession of this house." 

One lingers over this period of her story, unwilling 
to pass on to the sorrowful conclusion. God, who Lad 
elevated her so higlily in the sight of the world, was 
about to set upon her life the seal of a profound humi- 
liation. Hitherto she had been placed before the eyes 
of man as an object of enthusiastic veneration : her con- 
vent gates were crowded by persons of all ranks, w^ho 
thronged only to see her for a moment. Duke Hep 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNT. 1-53 

Bules of Este applied to her for counsel in all cliff uni- 
ties of state. The Pope tad issued extiaoramary briels 
to enable the religious of other convents and orders to 
pass under her g'overnment, and even to leave the 
second order to join her community, which belonged to 
the thu-d, — a privilege we shall scarcely find granted in 
any other case. But now these triumphs and distinctions 
were about to have an end. Blessed Lucy was about 
t\i^enty-nine years of age. The honour in which she was 
held, and the public celebrity she enjoyed, were a con- 
tinual source of sorrow and humiUation to her j and 
with the desire to escape from something of the po- 
pular applause which followed her, she ceased not ear- 
nestly to implore her Divine Spouse to remove fiom 
her the visible marks of the sacred stigmata, which 
were the chief cause of the veneration which was paid 
her by the world. Her request was in jmrt granted, 
the wounds in her hands and feet closed ; but that of 
the side, which was concealed from the eyes of others, 
remained open to the hour of her death. 

Whether the withdniwal of these visible tokens of 
the Divine favour was the cause of the change in the 
sentiments of her subjects, we are not told ; but we 
find shortly aft-er, that some among them, disgusted at 
her refusal to allow the community to become incorpo- 
rated with the second order, rose in rebellion, and even 
attempted her life. The scandal of this crime was con- 
cealed through the exertions of Lucy hei^self ; but on 
the death of her great protector, Duke Hercules, in 
1505, the discontented members of the community 
recommenced their plots against her authr^-ity and 
reputation. Their designs were laid with consummate 
art J and at length they publicly accused her of having 
been seen in her cell endeavouring to re-open the 
wounds of her hands and feet with a knife, in order to 
impose on the public. Their evidence was so ably con- 
cocted, that they succeeded in gaining over the heads 
of the order to their side. Hasty and violent mousuref 



164 BLESSED I CJCY OF NARNI 

were at once adopted ; every apostolic privilege granted 
by Pope Alexander was revoked; she was degraded 
from her office of prioress, deprived of every right and 
voice in the community, and placed below the yomigest 
novice in the house. She was, moreover, forbidden to 
speak to any one except the confessor, kept in a strict 
imprisonment, and treated in every way as if proved 
guilty of an infamous imposture. Nor was tins dis- 
grace confined within the enclosure of her own monas- 
tery ; it spread as far as her reputation had extended. 
All Italy was moved w ith a transport of indigTiation 
against her ; the storm of invective which was raised 
reached her even in her prison ; her name became a pro- 
verb of reproach throug'h Europe; and the nims who had 
been professed at her hands made their professions over 
again to the new prioress, as if their vows formerly 
made to her had been invalid. 

One can hardly picture a state of desolation equal 
to that m which Blessed Lucy now found herself. It 
was as if this token of deep abjection and humihatioii 
were required as a confinnation of her saintliness. 
If any such proof were indeed needed, it was furnished 
by the conduct wliich she exhibited under this extra- 
ordinary trial. Diu'ing the whole remaining period of 
her life, a space of eight- and- thii-ty years, she bore her 
heavy cross without a murmur. Perhaps its hardest 
suffering was, to Hve thus among those whom she had 
gathered together with her own hands, and had sought 
to lead to the highest paths of religion, compelled now 
to be a silent witness of their wickedness. Her life was a 
long prayer for her persecutors, and we are assured that 
no sorrow or regTet ever seemed to shadow the deep 
tranquillity of her soul. So far as it touched herselfj 
she took it as a more precious token of her Spouse's 
love than all the gTaces and favours He had ever 
heaped on her before. But it is no part of saintliness 
to be indifferent to the sins of others; and we can 
scarcely fathom the anguish wliich must hourly hav« 



BLESSED LITCY OF NARNI 165 

pierced her heart, at the ingratitude and malignity of 
ner unworthy children. 

And so closed the life which had opened in such a 
joyous and beautiful childhood. God indeed knew how 
to comfort one whom the world had utterly cast out ; 
and thoug'h cut off from the least communication with 
any human being*, she could scarcely be pitied whilst 
her neglected and solitary cell was the resort of celes- 
tial visitants and friends. The reader is possibly a 
Uttle tired of such tales ; yet we ask his indulgence 
whilst referring* to one of these last incidents in the life 
of Blessed Lucy, which we can scarcely omit. There 
lived at the same time, at CaramagTia in Savoy, another 
bentified saint of the same illustrious order. Blessed 
Catheiine of Raconigi. She had never seen Blessed 
Lucy; but had heard of her saintly fame, and the lustre 
of her life and mu-acles, and then also of her suffer- 
ing's and disg-race. But the saints of God judg'e not 
as the world judges ; and Catherine knew by the light 
of divine illumination the falsehood of the charg-es 
brought against her sister. She had ever longed to see 
and speak with her ; and now more than ever, when the 
g'litter of the world's applause was exchanged for its 
contumely and persecution. The thought of her sister, 
never seen with mortal eye, yet so dearly loved in God, 
never left her mind ; and she prayed earnestly to their 
common Lord and Spouse, that He would comfort and 
support her, and, if such were His blessed will, satisfy 
in some way her owm intense desire to hold some kind 
of intercourse with her even in this life. One nig-ht, as 
she was thus praying in her cell at Caramagiia, her 
desires were heard and granted. The same evening 
Lucy was also alone and in prayer ; and to her in like 
manner God had revealed the sanctity of Catherine, 
kindling' in her heart a loving sympathy with one who, 
though a stranger in the world's language, had been 
Drought very near to her heart in the mystei'ies of the 
Heart of Jesus. We cannot say how and in what waj 



156 BLESSED LUCY OF NARNl. 

it was, but t-liey spent that nig-lit tog-etlier; but wbjn 
morning" came, and found her again alone as before, 
Lucy bad received such strength and consolation from 
her sister's visit, that, as her biog-rapher says, " she de- 
sired new affronts and persecutions for the g'lory of that 
Lord who knew so well how to comfort and support 
her in them." 

Her last illness came on her in her sixty-eighth 
year : for eight- and -thirty years she had lived stri})ped 
of all human consolation; and the malice of her enemies 
continued unabated to the last. None came near her, 
as she lay weak and dying on her miserable bed. Like 
her Lord and Master, they hid their faces from her, 
counting her as a leper. The ordinai-y offices of charity, 
which they would have done to the poorest beggar in 
the streets, ^hey denied to her ; she was left to die as 
she had lived, alone. But if the world abandoned her, 
God did not. Her pillow v/as smoothed and tended by 
more than a mother's care. Saint Catherine did not 
neglect her charge. It is said she was more than once 
seen by the sick-bed, having' in her company one of 
the sisters of the community, who had departed a short 
time before, with the reputation of sanctity 5 and to- 
gether they did the office of infirmarians to the dying- 
Saint. When the last hour drew nigh, she called the 
sisters around her bed, and humbly asked theu' pardon 
for any scandal she had given them in life. We do 
not find one word of justification, or remonstrance, or 
even of regret ; only some broken words of exhorta- 
tion, not to be offended at her imperfection, but to love 
God and be detached from creatures, and abide stead- 
fastly by their rule. At midnight, on the 15th of 
November, 1544, she felt the moment of -release was 
at hand ^ and without any death-struggle or sign of 
suffering, she raised her hands and cried, " Up to 
heaven, up to heaven !" find so expired, with a smile 
that remained on the dead face with so extraordinary ft 
beauty, that none could look on it without a sentimen"" 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 167 

of awe , for the j knew it was the beauty of one of God's 
Saints. 

The truth could not longer be concealed ; one super- 
natui'al token after another was given to declare the 
blessedness of the departed soul. Ang*elic voices were 
heard sino'Lug" above the cell by all the sisters ; an extra- 
ordinary perfiime filled the cell and the whole house ; 
and the community, who had probably for the most 
part been deceived by onp or two in authority, without 
any malice on their owi pai't, now loudly insisted on 
justice being* done to the deceased. It was done, so 
far as funeral honours can make amends for a Hfe of 
cruelty and calumniation. The body was exposed in 
the church ; and the fickle crowds wno had called her 
an impostor while hvin^, crowded now to see and touch 
the sacred remains. 1 he wound in her side was ex- 
amined, and found dripping* with fresh wet blood ; tho 
sick were cured, and evil spirits cast out, by cloths 
which had been placed on the rehcs. 

Four years after tlie body was taken fi-om its grave, 
and found fi*esh and beautifid as in Hfe. Tlien it was 
again exposed in the church to the veneration of the 
faithful, who crowded once more to pay it honour, and 
were wonder-struck at the perfiime, as of sweet violets, 
which issued fi-om it, and attached to every thino- which 
it touched. And it was again disinteiTed, little more 
than a century ago, in 1710, when it presented the 
same appearance as before, and the sacred stigmata 
were observed distinct and visible to all. On this 
occasion a part of the body was tTciL^lated to Narni, 
where it now reposes in a magnificent shrine, and re- 
ceives extraordinary honoui-s, amid the scene of hei 
childish devotion to the Christarello. Perhaps, as we 
read of these honours to the dead, we may feel they 
were but poor reparation for the calumnies and injm'ies 
heaped on her while living : or, if we seek to measure 
these thing's in the balance of the sanctuary, we can 
beheve that to her blessed spirit now, those long years 



158 



BLESSED LUCY OF NARNI. 



of abandonment and desolation, which cut her off from 
all communion with this earth for more than half her 
mortal life, were a far more precious gift than all the 
shrines, and funeral honours, and populai- venei-ation, 
pvhich the world in its tardy repentance was moved to 



give her. 



She was finally beatified by Benedict XI II. towai'ds 
•isS middle of the last century. 




DOMI]NICA OF PARADISO 



161 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

About four hundred years ago there lived at a small 
country village near Florence, called Paradiso, a poor 
gardener and his wife, whose names were Francis and 
Uostanza. They had several children, of wliom the 
youngest was named Donunica, who was hrouglit up 
to the life of labour and hardship ordinary among the 
i)oorer peasantry of Italy, and whose daily task it was to 
help in the cultivation of the garden on which the 
whole ibmily depended for support. Beyond the fii-st 
rudiments of the Christian faith, Dominica received no 
education; for her parents were in no way superior in 
iiiteHigonce to others of tlieu- class in life. Nevertheless, 
fi'cm her very infancy she showed sigTis that tlie few 
in -tnicl iou'^ which the v were able to give Ijer had made 
a wonderful impression on her heart; and as lier soul 
received each new religious idea, it was cherished and 
meditated on; so that she gathered materials enough 
out of tliese simple elements to build up a life of the 
hiii'hest contemj)lotive prayer. Among all the biogra- 
phies of tlie saints whicli have been })reserved to us, 
there are few whicli so vividly illustrate the growth of 
a profound and supernatural devotion in the heart of 
an uneducated child as that before us. Nor will it be 
tliouglit that the extreme simplicity which mingles 
v.itli some of the passages of her life which are here 
selected, lessens the beauty of a narrative whose inci- 
dents charm us like a poem. 

Dominica was marked in a special way as the child 
of Mtiry, even from her cradle. The first occasion 
when we read of the' Blessed Virgin appearing to her 
was one day when she was lying on her poor little bed- 

M 



1G2 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

Demg' then only fom^ years old. The presence of the 
Divine Mother with a train of shining;' ano'els then 
first awoke in her little heart a lonirino- after God and 
heaven j and she hegan to pray — thoug-li scarcely know- 
ing- the meaning of the words she uttered — that she 
might be taught the way to reach, that glory, the 
vision of which had captivated her imagination. Then 
she came to understand that fidelity to God's precepts, 
and contrition for sin^ was the path of saintliness • and 
so were traced out on her soul the first lineaments of 
perfection. Now she had learnt that contrition was a 
sorrow for sin ; and the simple sort of catechism which 
her mother was accustomed to teach her spoke also of 
the heart being full of sin^ and hov/ tears of penitence 
were necessary to wash it from its corrupt stains. A 
metaphor of any kind was far beyond the reach of 
Dominica's comprehension; she therefore took these 
expressions in a very straightforward way, and wept 
heartily to think her heart should be so defiled and 
dangerous a thing. And the handkerchief which was 
wet with her childish tears she laid over her breast, 
thinking that this must be the way to wash away the 
stains they talked of. 

All day long she revolved in her mind the one idea 
which had been revealed to her soul, — ^perfection, as the 
road to God's presence; and thinking incessantly of 
these things amid the various occupations in which she 
was engaged, she came to make every part of her 
day's work associated with the subjects of her medita- 
tion. To her eye, all untaught by man, but enlight- 
ened by the Divine liorht, the invisible thin2:s of God 
were clearly seen by the things that were visible. 
Once she was helping an elder sister to make some 
cakes mixed with poppy-seeds, to give to her brother 
who was ill and suffering- from want of sleep. As she 
baked the cakes, her thoughts were, as usual, busy find- 
ing* divine meanings in the things before her. The 
interior voice, whose whispers she as yet scarcely un- 
derstood, seemed to speak to her of another kind of 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 163 

hva *\nica slioiild satisfy tlie soul, so tliat it sliould 
slumber and repose in the sleep of Divine love. Then 
she prayed very earnestly to be given this wonderful 
food; and the voice spoke in answer, and said, 
" Daug'hter, the food of which I spake is none other 
clian Mv love, with which when the saints in heaver 
are filled and satisfied, they sleep so sweetly, that they 
forg-ot all created thing-s, and watch only unto Me." 
And Dominica wondered how the saints took this mar- 
vellous slumber, and whether it v\-ere on beds made 
like her cv, n straw mattress, or in the bosom of God, 
even as her mother was wont to rock the little baby to 
sleep. When she was at work in the g-arden, she 
would raise her eyes to heaven, and think how she 
could make her heart a g-arden of flowers for the de- 
lig'ht of God. And once, as she so mused, He who 
had undertaken the office of teacher and director to her 
soul appeared to her, and taug-ht her that prayer would 
keep tliat soul ever fi'esh and gTeen before Him ; and 
that He would open in that g-arden five limpid and 
crystal fountains to refresh it, even the five wounds of 
His Sacred Passion ; and tliat she, on lier part, must 
keep it free from weeds, daily plucking- up evil pas- 
sions, and tlie idle thoupfhts of vanity and the world ; 
that so it mig-lit be beautiful to the eye, and abundant 
in all ple-asant fruits. H'she ran upstairs, her thoughts 
ascenaed to heaven ; if she came down, she abased her- 
self in the depths of lowliness and liumility. The oxen 
ploughing- in tlie field reminded her to bear meekly the 
yoke of obedience; and as she stood in her father's 
wine-press she taug-ht herself to tr(>ad under her own 
will and nature, if she would taste of the sweetness of 
divine consolations. Once the sight of a hen with hei 
brood of chickens so vividly brought before her the 
mvstery ( f the Incarnation, and that wonderful love 
which gave its life to cover our sins and shield us from 
the wrath of God, that slie was rapt in a state of 
ecstasy, and so remained in the garden all that day 
and the following night. And again, as she gathered 



164 DOMINICA OF PARADTSO. 

the ripe apples which her mother was hoarding* for the 
winter^ she hecame absorhed in contemplating the 
beauty of that soul wherein the fruits of virtue are 
broug'ht forth, maldng it pleasant in the eye of God. 
And she sighed deeply, and said, " Oh, that I knew 
how to store my soul with these precious fruits ! how 
happy should I then be !" And the Spouse of her 
heart came swiftly to her, and showed her how for 
every apple she gathered for the love of Him, there 
was brought forth a glorious fruit within her soul, 
more gracious and beautiful in His sight than the fair- 
est apples of her garden. All this was going on in 
her mind whilst yet not sis. years old ; and so her life 
divided itself between the homely exterior labour and 
rough discipline of a peasant life, and an interior ol 
spiritual contemplation, wherein were revealed to her 
many of the profoundest secrets of mj^stic theology. 
The world became to her a book written within ana 
without with the name of God; all creatures talked to 
her of Him. And this was sometimes permitted to be 
manifested in extraordinary ways ; as once, when walk- 
ing by the side of a lake near their cottage, tlie thought 
sus'O'ested itself that the fish, beino- creatm-es of God, 
must be obedient to Him, and ready to do Him ser-\dce. 
Therefore she stood by the water-side, and called them 
to come and help her whilst she sang His praises ; and 
the fish, swimming to the shore, did so after their kind, 
leaping' and jumping about out of the water; while she 
sat on the grass, and sang a Kttle song wliich she had 
learnt, and was fond of repeating to herself over her 
work in the garden. 

One day she was ill, and her mother desired her to 
eat some meat, wliich. she did, although it was Friday ; 
and afterwards felt gTeat scruples, fearing she had com- 
mitted a great sin. She had never yet been to confes- 
sion, being- under the aa^e when it is usual for children 
to confess. But she now felt very anxious to relieve her 
conscience of this weight ; only, being confined to hei 
bed, she could not get to the church ; nor did she dare 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 165 

to ask her mother to send for the priest. She therefore 
considered within herself what she should do ; and she 
remembered to have seen the people iu the church not 
only kneeling' in the confessionals, but also before the 
crucifixes and devout imag"es on the altars ; and in her 
simplicity, she thoug-ht that they were likewise confess- 
ing- their sins to them. Now there was a little picture 
of the Madonna holding* the Holy Child in her arms, 
which hung- in her room, and Dominica thoug-ht she 
could confess to this ; therefore, getting- out of bed, she 
knelt down devoutly before it, and confessed her fault 
in eating the meat with many teai-s, praying* the little 
Jesus to g-ive her absolution for her faidt, which she 
thoug-ht He w'ould do by placino;- His hand on her head, 
as she had seen the old priest do to the little children 
of the villag-e. But when she had knelt a long- time, 
<ind saw that the imag;e did not move, she became very 
tmhappy, and prayed all the harder that He would not 
deny her absolution, but would "-ive lier the sig-n she 
asked for. Then it })leased our Lord to gi-ant her the 
answer which her simple confidence extorted from Him; 
and the fig-m-es of the Mother and the Son raised their 
hands, and placed them on the child's head, who re- 
mained filled with delight at the thoug-ht that her sins 
Avere now forgiven her, and lier conscience at rest. 

After this her mother took her once a year to con- 
fession in the church. It g*rieved her much not to be 
able to g'o oftener ; but her ang-el-giiardian taug-ht her 
to submit in this matter to her mother's pleasure, and 
to supply the place of more frequent confession by 
every evening- examining- her conscience, and confessing- 
her aaily faults before the same })icture as before. Nor 
was this the only teaching- which she received from 
him ; he taug-ht her that the path to Paradise was a 
way of suffering- ; and that they who aspired to the 
mystic nuptials of Christ were careful to clothe them- 
selves with the livery of the cross. And Dominica, in 
obedience to these insti-uctions, beg-an to afilict her body 
with fasts and other austerities, and g^ave the food 



x66 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

wliicJi slie saved from her own dinner to tlie poor. She 
ever showed great devotion to the Blessed Virg-in, es- 
pecially after the circumstances narrated above ; and 
made it her particidar duty to lig'ht the lamp before 
her picture every Saturday^ and to, g'arland it with 
flowers on that day, as being* specially dedicated to her. 
On )ne of these occasions, Mary appeared to her with 
liei Divine Child in her arms, and promised her that in 
reward for her devotian she should one day become 
His spouse, but not until she had gTown further in per- 
fection and in His love. This promise became thence- 
forth the absorbing' subject of her thoughts; and at 
seven years of ag"e she consecrated herself to Him, 
whom from that hour she considered her Spouse, by a 
solemn vow, cutting- oif her beautiful g'oldan hair, as 
she understood the custom was, and oi^'ering* it to her 
Lord. When her mother saw her hair cut oiF, she was 
gTeatly displeased, and commanded her to suffer it to 
g-row ag'ain, and not to attempt to cut it a second time. 
Dominica obeyed; but she secretly prayed that God 
would send her. some infirmity of the head, which 
mig-ht prevent the growth of the hair. And tliis indeed 
happened ; so that the head remained closely cut until 
her fifteenth year, when it was ciu^ed, and miraculously 
crowned, as w^e shall see, by God. 

Our Blessed Lady very often favoured her with her 
visible presence ; but on these occasions she appeared 
alone, and without her Son. Dominica was g-reatly 
grieved at the absence of her Lord, and at length one 
day resolved to ask the Blessed Virgin the reason 
why He never came. " Divine Lady," she said, 
*' you come very often to see me and talk to me ; but 
you never bring Him who is to be my Spouse ; why 
is this, for it grieves me that I never see Him?" 
Then our Lady, smiling on her, showed her the Holy 
fnfant sleeping in her bo:?om. Dominica was delighted 
at the sight. ^^ But how very small He is !" she ex- 
claimed '^ He will grow," replied Mary, " v.dien you 
mil, and as mugh as you will;" and as she spoke, Bo- 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 167 

minica perceived that He was already miicli larg-er, 
" All ! He is already gTowing-/' she exclaimed ; '' now 
He is twice the size He was ! — how is that r* " " He 
g-i'ows with your gTOwth," again replied Mary; ^^and 
your gTOW^th must be not in tlie flesh, but in the spirit : 
when you have attained to your full gTowtli in holiness, 
He will come and celebrate those espousals whicli you 
desire so much." Then the Child extended His hand 
to Dominica as a token of His renewed promise ; and 
the vision disappeared. She remained very sad and 
disconsolate ; and her grief, when she thoug-ht of the 
loveliness of Jesus, and the long* time that was yet to 
elapse before His promise could be fulfilled, became so 
poignant, that she fell ill, and spent eig'ht days in con- 
tinual tears and sorrow of heart. This abandonment of 
her soul to g-rief was by no means pleasing- to the 
Blessed Virg-in, who appeared ag-ain at the end of the 
eig-ht days, and g-ave her a sharp reproof for her want of 
resignation. " Daug-hter," she said, '^ you gTieve for the 
loss of sensible consolations; but know this, that to 
those who attach themselves to such thing's, visions, and 
revelations, and the sensible presence of the Beloved, 
are not blessing's but evils : wherefore put away your 
soiTOW, and serve God with a joy fill and contented 
heart." " But how can I be joyfiil," said the weeping 
child, " whilst I am so far from mv vSpouse and His 
palace, and still > ept a prisoner in tliis vale of tears •*" 
Then the merciful heart of Mary was moved with pity, 
and she said, " Follow me with your eyes, and you 
sliall see a g'limpse of the country where He dwells ;" 
and so saying-, she rose towards heaven before her eyes. 
Dominica watched her as she had said, and she saw 
how the heavens opened to receive their cpieen; and 
caug'ht throug'h the parted doors of those celestial 
reg-ions something* of the g'lory of the New Jerusalem. 
She saw her pass on through the countless choirs of the 
angels, till she came close to the throne of God ; and ir 
the midst of the unapproachable liii'ht she saw the Child 
Jesus, more beautiful and glorious than she had ever 



168 DOMINICA OF PARADISO.. 

seen Him before; and then, even as she ^azed on Him, 
forg-etting' all beside, the g'olden g-ates closed on the 
scene, and shnt it from her eyes. Now when Dominica 
looked round, and saw that it had all passed away, she 
remained full of an unspeakable long-in»- to reach that 
glorious country, or at least to see it once again. She 
kept her eyes constantly fixed on the sky, for she 
faoug"ht perhaps it might once more open; and in her 
simplicity she thought she should be nearer to her 
Lord, and to the beauty amid which He dwelt, on high 
places : therefore, at night, when all the family were 
itsleep, she rose softly, and taking a ladder, moimted to 
the roof, where she spent the nig'ht in prayer, looking 
wistfully at the stars, which she thoug'ht were at least 
little sparks of that great glory which had been revealed 
to her. And having repeated this several times, it pleased 
God more than once to open the vision of heaven to 
her again ; so that she came to have a familiarity with 
that blessed place, and to know the choirs of angels one 
from another, and to tell the different degrees of the 
blessed by the crowns they wore, and many ether mys- 
teries which, whilst she beheld, she as yet did not fully 
comprehend. 

When Easter came, her mother took her to church, 
and she saw all the people going to Communion, and 
grieved much to think she was too young to be suffered 
to approach with them. It seemed also very strange 
to her that they should come to so wonderful a ban- 
quet, and go away again, just as if nothing* had hap- 
pened to them ; and she thoug-ht it would not be so 
with her : for, indeed, whenever she was present at Mass, 
and the priest elevated the Sacred Host before her 
eyes, she saw the visible person of her divine Spouse, 
adorned with so wonderful a beauty that it seemed 
marvellous to her that no one else seemed moved by 
the sig'ht ; and sht. thought that all saw what she saw, 
^ad never dreamt that it was a revelation granted to 
her eyes alone. And once, as she thus reasoned within 
herself, and looked sorrowfriUy on the crowds who were 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO 169 

g-oing" to receive a happiness wliicli was denied to her, 
the Lord of her soul Himself di-ew near to comfoi-t hei 
with a foretaste of His presence, and Dominica felt oa 
her tongue a drop of His precious Blood. 

Autumn brought the harvest, and with it hard 
work in the fields for Dominica, whose prayers and 
visions never interru])ted hei life of daily labour. She 
was one day in the fields watching* them burn the 
stubble, and helping to heap the loads of straw and 
rubbish on to the fire. With childlike glee, she 
danced and clap})ed her hands to see the flames leijp- 
ina- hi"-h into the air : and she thouo-ht to herself that 
the lire was like Divine love, and long-ed that her own 
heart coidd be consumed in its flames like the worthless 
straw. Then the voice of her Spouse spoke within her 
And said, " What would you do, Dominica, if you saw 
your S})ouse in the midst of those flames ?" And she 
answered, '' I would run to Him and embrace Him." 
" Dut," replied the voice, "would you not fear the firei* 
do you not remember how terrible was the pain when 
your sister burnt her hand ?" And even at that mo- 
ment Dominica saw through the flames, how a beauti- 
fid Indy entered the fleld on the other side of the lire, 
leadings a child of surpassing- loveliness by the hand. 
As she looked at them the huh' spoke to her : '^ Do- 
minica," she said, " why are you here, and what do you 
seek :" And Dominica repHed, " I am looking at the 
flames, nnd I am seeking- for God in them !" '^ God." 
answ ered the lady, " is very near j'ou, and yet you do 
not l<now Him." Then her eyes opened, and she knew 
that she had been S])eaking- to no otiier than Jesus and 
]Maiy ; and forg-etting- the Are and her own danger, 
and all but the presence of her Beloved, she ran through 
tlic flames to the other side, and cast herself at His 
i'eet. In doing* this she was severely burnt, for her 
loi'.s nnd arms were bare like other peasant children ; 
but Dominica did not feel the pain, for she was gazing 
o::i 1 er Lord. And the g-lorious Child took her lovingly 
hy the liand, and said, " Dominica, thou hast coa 



170 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

ouered flames for the love of Me ; therefore shalt thou 
ever abide in My grace, and shalt dwell with Me for 
ever." Then He ulessed her; and disappearing- from 
sig'ht, Dominica was again alone. On looking- round 
her, slie found that it was quite dark, aiid the stai-s were 
shining brig-htly ; for the moments that had seemed to 
her to fly so quickly had indeed been liom's, and it 
was now night. She beg*an to be very frightened, 
knowing that her absence would cause great alarm ; 
but we are assured that, on returning in the morning, 
she found she had not been missed, her angel-guar- 
dian having- taken her form, and discharged all the 
household offices which it was her duty to perform. 

On another occasion, she was as usual at work in 
the g-arden, whilst her brothers were bringing in a load 
of manure which smelt very ofibnsive. The habit of 
drawing spiritual meanings from all external objects 
had become so completely second nature to Dominica, 
that her thoughts seem to have shaped themselves into 
these analogies on all occasions. The bad smell there- 
fore suggested to her mind an image of mortal sin, and 
she prayed that she might be taught in some way how 
it appeared in the eyes of God. At that moment a 
soldier entered the garden for the purpose of pur- 
chasing- some veg-etables, and Dominica perceived that 
his soul was very oflensive in the sight of God. She 
looked in his face, and it seemed to her so disfigured 
by foul and monstrous deformity, that she was moved 
with a deep compassion for him ; she prayed therefore 
very earnestly, that God would give him the gi-ace of 
conversion, and save him from his miserable state. She 
longed to say something to him ; but not daring to 
address him, she remained before him, still looking- up 
in his face, and weeping bitterly. Her manner at 
length drew his attention, and he asked ber wliat was 
the matter, and why she kept thus looking at Iiim and 
weeping. " I weep," she answered, " because your 
soul is so ugly; you must certainly be very unhappy. 
How is it you do not remember the Precious Blood 



DOMIJSICA OF PARADISO. 171 

which redeemed you fi-om the power of the devil ? 
Do you not see the bow bent, and the arrow ready to 
fly ?" " What bow, and what arrow, are you talking 
of?" said the astonished man. "The bow," rephed 
the cliild, "is divine justice, and the aiTow is death and 
he judgment, which will certainly overtake you if you 
do not change your wicked life and become a good 
man." As she spoke, the simplicity of her words 
fairly conquered the obduiate heart to which they were 
addressed. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he 
knelt before her, and confessed he was inrleed an enor- 
mous sinner, who deserved nothing- but hell ; but that if 
she would help him with her prayers, he would go that 
^■ery day to confession, and begin a new life; and with 
this promise he left her. For eight days Dominica 
continued in very earnest prayer for him, in spite of 
imlieard-of troubles and persecutions of the devils ; but 
c»n the eighth she knew that her prayers had been 
licurd, for she saw his soul white and clean like that of 
a !iewly-baptised child j and he himself came to thank 
Jier for the gn^ace she had obtained for him, and by 
means of which he had been enabled to make a good 
Mid contrite confession. He told her, moreover, that 
he was i-esolved to leave the world and retire to a her- 
mitage, to spend the remainder of his life in penance; 
but ])rayed her, before he went, at least to give him 
her blessing". This request puzzled Dominica ; and she 
re})lied she would readily oblige him, but she did not 
know how. Then her angel raised her iittle hand, and 
g:uided it to sig-n the sign of the Cross above his head ; 
and a voice which was not hers said for her, "May 
CukI ])less thee in this world and in the woild to 
come." Fourteen years after, this man died in his her- 
mitae-e, M'ith tlie reputation of sanctity. 

Ihis first conversion awoke in her soul an ardeni 
thirst for tlie salvation of sinners. It was a new feel- 
ing-, and to her quick and sensitive soul one which soor 
became wliolly absorbing-. Happening- about this time 
to see a little picture representi ig- the sufferings of the 



172 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

BGiils in hellj she was greatly touched with ccmpaS' 
sion, and innocently prayed God to relieve them and 
set them free. Then her faithful g-uardian instructec] 
her on this matter, and taught her that the only way 
to save souls from hell was, to prevent ^in and convert 
sinners by her prayers. And to increase her zeal he 
showed her, not a picture, but the real suffering's of the 
lost souls ; and the sentiments of pity which these ex- 
cited were so lively, that a desire awoke within her to 
suffer somethins,' in her own bodv, in order to save 
other souls from these terrible flames. And with the 
idea of experiencing something of a like kind of suffer- 
ing', she took a lighted torch, and courageously held it 
to her shoulder till the flesh was burnt, which caused 
her agonies of pain for many days. These, however, 
she had self-command enough to conceal, in spite of 
some emotions of very natural alarm, which determined 
her to find out if possible some other less dangerous 
method of afflicting her body. She even prayed God 
to teach her in what way she should do this ; and one 
day seeing a picture in the church of St. John Baptist 
clothed in his garment of camel's hair, the thought was 
suggested to her mind of forming some such garment 
for herself out of horsehair; wliich she accordingly did, 
and wore it for nine years. And here one can hardly 
fail to admire the means by wliich, step by step, she was 
led on in the path of a saintly life. Human teaching 
she had none; she had probably never seen a book: 
but yet we see how the commonest incidents and acci- 
dents, being accompanied by God's grace, were enough 
to reveal the secrets of His counsels to her soul. A 
picture, or a chance word, or the thought which rose 
spontaneously out of some image of the visible things 
around her, were food enoug-h for a soul which literally 
*' waited continually upon God ;" it drew sustenance 
and life ouf. of what seemed the very barrenest deser-t. 

From this time commenced a new life of austerity, 
so rigorous and continuaL that extraordinary strength 
must have been supphed to have enabled her to fivfl 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 173 

ander the perpetual tortures she inflicted on her inno- 
cent flesh. And thoiig-h in the details of these austeri- 
ties we find many thing-s precisely similar to those 
related of other saints, yet it is certain that tlieir lives 
and examples were wholly unknown to her, and tliere- 
fnre that in this matter she must have followed the 
mstmct of her own devotion, guided hy the Spirit of 
God. But, again, we observe how she was directed 
by that quick and watchful eye of the soul which let 
notliing- escape its vigilance; — a coarse and common 
print of the Scourging* of our Divine Lord, once seen, 
was enoug-h to teach Dominica those sharp disciplines 
to blood in which she persevered during' the remainder 
of her life. 

We pass over the account of many temptations and 
apparitions of evil s])irits, to g'ive the story of one vision 
with which she was favoured, whose beauty can perhaps 
scarcely be equalled by any similar incident to he met 
with in the Lives of tlie Saints. It has been said that 
she was accustomed to observe Saturday as a day of 
special devotion in honour of the Madonna, whose imag-o 
on that day had its garland of fresh flowers hung- up, 
and its little lamp brig-litly burning" in the midst. Now 
it happened that one Saturday Dominica had taken un- 
usual care in the decoration of her little imag-e ; she had 
picked her choicest flowers, and hung- them in wreaths 
and bunches which took her some little time to arrange 
But her trouble was well rewarded; for the Blessed Vir- 
gin reached out her hand and took some of the flowers, 
and smelt them, and then g-ave them to her Son, that He 
might smell them likewise. Dominica, fidl of delig'ht; 
besought them ever thus to t^mell her flowers, and to for- 
g*et the unwortbiness of her who offered them. And then 
she remembered tliat she could not stand there lookino- at 
her beloved Madonna any long-er; for it was tlie nour 
when she, was accustomed to g-o to the cottag-e-door with 
the scraps she had saved from her dinner, that she might 
o"ive alms to any poor beggar who should be jnissiug 
by. Accordingly, she ran to the door with her ba.skei 



174 D<>MINICA OF PARABISO. 

of broken bread, and waited patiently till some object 
of cliaiity should pass that way. At length she per- 
ceived a woman approaching, leading a child by the 
hand. By their dress she saw that they were very 
|>Oi)r; yet there was an air of dignity, almost of majesty, 
in the manner and appearance of both. They came up 
to the spot where she stood ; and the child, addressing 
himself to her with a certain gracious sweetness, held 
out his hands, as if beggmg, and said, '^ You will cer- 
tainly give me something, my good little peasant girl?" 
And as he did so, she perceived that in either hand there 
was a larg'e open wound ; and that his dress was likewise 
covered with blood, as from a ii-ei^h wound in liis side. 
Touched with compassion, she bade them wait whilst 
she entered the house for something to give them ; but 
she had scarcely done so, when she perceived that they 
were by her side. " Ah ! " said Dominica, ^' what have 
you done ! if my mother knows I have let any one in, 
she will never forgive me." " Fear nothing," said the 
woman; ^' we shall do no harm, and no one will see us." 
Then Dominica saw that the child's feet were likewise 
bleeding ; and pitying him very much, she said, " How 
can your son walk on th-e rough roads with those 
wounded feet of his ?" And his mother replied, " The 
child's love is so great, he never complains of himself." 
Now as they were thus talking, the child was looking 
at the image garlanded with the lovely fresh roses; 
and with a wuming and innocent grace he held up his 
little hands and asked for some of the flowers : and 
Dominica could not refuse to give them to him; for 
spite of their poor rags, there was something about her 
strange visitors which captivated her heart. And the 
mother took the roses, and smelt them, and gave them 
to her son ; and turning to Dominica, she said, " Why 
do you garland that image with flowers ? it would 
seem as if you cared for it very much." "It is the 
Madomia and the Holy Child Jesus," answered Domi- 
nica ; '^and I give them my flowers because I love 
them dearly." " And how much do you love them r" 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO, 17t 

oontiniied the woman. " As much as I can/' said Do- 
minica. " And how nmch is that '.^ " said the woman 
ag-ain. "Ah!" rephed Bominica, "it is as much as 
they h^lp me too." But still as she spoke she could 
not take her eves off the child : for his extraordinary 
gi-ace and beauty filled her with an emotion she could 
not comprehend. " Why do you stand thus g-azing- at 
my son r*" said the woman ; " what do you see in 
himT' "He is such a beautiful cliild," said Domi- 
nica ; and she leant over him to caress him. But she 
started back with surprise, for those Avounds gave forth 
a wonderful odour, as of Paradise ; and turning- to the 
woman, she exclaimed, " Motlier of God ! what is this? 
with what do you anoint 3'our son's wounds, for ihs 
wiour of them is sweeter than my sweetest Hower=! T* 
" It is tlte ointment of cliarity," said the motlier ; bm 
Doininica scarcely heard the reply : she was still g-azing" 
at tlie child, and trying" to attract his notice, as the 
manner is with clnldren. " Come to me, my child," 
she said, "and I will give you this piece of bread.'' 
" It is of no use," said the mother ; " tell him of Jesus, 
and how you love Him, and tlie child will come readily 
enough." And at the words he did indeed come ; and 
looking" up sweetly into Dominica's face, he asked, 
" And do you really love Jesus ?" And that sweet 
odour became so marvello'.isly powerful, that she was 
yet more filled with surprise ; and she said, " beau- 
tiful cliild, what wonder is this .'* if your wounds give 
forth this delicious perfume, what will the perfume of 
Paradise be like?" " Do not wonder," said the mother, 
" that the perfume of Paradise should be vrherc God 
is ; " and then the blindness fell from her eyes, and she 
knew that she was talking- to none other than to Jesus 
and Mary. And even at that moment the poor rag-s 
fell off tliem, and she saw them dressed in royal robes 
of surpassing" splendour ; and the Cliild Jesus gi-ew to 
the stature of a man, and His face shone with the brig*ht» 
ness of the sun, whilst over the wound of His side 
ihere gleamed the radiance of a brilliant star. 



176 DOMINICA OF PARADISO, 

Dominica fell prostrate at their feet as tLey rose 
into the air; and taking the roses fi*om His mother's 
bosom, the Divine Spouse scattered them over the head 
and g-arments of His beloved, and said, " Mj 
spouse! thou hast adorned My image with garlands 
and roseSj and therefore do I sprinlde thee with these 
flowers, as an eai'nest of the everlasting- garland with 
which I will crown thee in Paradise ;" and so sa j.ng, 
they Loth disappeared. Dominica strove in vain to fol- 
low tliem with her eyes ; but for eight days after there 
remained the perfume of the wounds, and her head and 
dress were seen covered with flowers. 

At length she arrived at the age when it is custom- 
ary for children to make their first Communion; and her 
mother, therefore, took her during Lent to the priest, 
that he might examine and prepare her for that pui'- 
pose. A very few words satisfied him that she was 
full of Divine grace, and he accordingly desired her to 
go to communion at the approaching Easter, which was 
considerably sooner than her mother had intended. 
" How can I do so ?" said Dominica ; " I am only 
eleven years old, and my mother is used to say, ' Chil- 
dren should not go to Communion till they are twelve.' 
Moreover, there are but three weeks to Easter, and in 
that short time I can never prepare fitly to receive our 
Lord ; " and so saying, she began to weep. Never- 
theless, the priest laid her under obedience to do as he 
had said, and sent her away; and Dominica returned 
home with her thoughts full of this weighty matter 
of the three weeks of preparation. Now the dignity 
of the Holy Saci-ament appeared to her so very great, 
that she thought a year would be too little to make 
ready the chamber of her heart ; and thinking how she 
could make the most of the short time allowed her, 
she determined not to go to bed for that time, but 
to remain in pr^ver and meditation dl night, that she 
might make the weeks longer ; for, indeed, she was sc 
simply impressea with the conviction of her own vile 
ness, that she dreaded lest the Sacred Host shoidd dis- 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 177 

appear, or some otlier token of Divine displeasure sliould 
be evinced, if she approached without much preparation 
and examination of heart. So, as we have said, she 
never went to Led; but remained kneehng- and praying 
all nio'ht, examinino- her innocent conscience, and o-oing; 
over a world of resolutions and forms of pre])aration, 
which slie believed were necessary to be g-ot throug-h in 
the time. It was a cliild's simple thoug-ht ; — we love 
Dominica all the better for the childishness that forgot 
that its excellent resolve was an impossible one for iiesh 
and blood to keep: — for very often the poor little g-irl 
was conquered by weariness, and fell asleep in the 
midst of lier long" prayers, and in spite of her manfid 
efforts to keep awake ; and then she would try to rouse 
herself with the thought of her preparation for Commu- 
nion, and beg'in all over again, with a kind of nervous 
terror that the time would be too short after all. 

At length Holy Week came, and her mother took 
her to Florence to hear the preaching- of the Passion at 
the gTeat church of St. Reparata. It was a new life 
to Dominica : seated by her mother's side, she drank in 
every word of the impassioned eloquence of the pnaclier; 
and with her usual innocence, believed that Christ would 
really visibly appear, and suffer before the eyes of the 
people as He did on Calvary. And when the preacher 
said, "yesterday He was betra^'ed," and "to-day He is 
led to death," she believed he spoke literally; for she had 
not learnt to understand metaj)hors better than wiien, a 
child of four years old, she had desired to know the kind 
of bed that the ang'cls sle[)t on. And, indeed, the spec- 
tacle was g'iven to her eyes, and she saw the scene of 
the Crucifixion, and how Mary stood beneath the Cross, 
and how Nicodemus took down the Sacred Body and 
laid it in her arms. She saw it, as it were, in the midst 
of the crowd of people who stood round her, and won- 
dered how they looked so unconcerned ; and she herself 
longed to push her way throug'h them to g"et nearer tc 
her dying- Lord; but the crowd kept her back. Then^ 
when she g-ot back to her own room at home, she knell 

M 



178 DOMINICA OF PAllADISO. 

down to tliink of what she had witnessed ; and the 
Blessed Yh^gin appeared to her, and taught her that it 
had heen hut a vision, and one revealed to her alone, 
and not to the people, Dominica then told her all her 
fears that her preparation had heen too short ; that our 
Lord would certainly never allow her to come to Him ; 
and that she was so unworthy and unfit to communi- 
cate, she should drive Him out of the church. But 
Mary comforted her, and assured her that the t-ears of 
contrition she had shed were all the preparation He re- 
quired. 

When Dominica heard this she was a little consoled; 
3^et her fear lest the Sacred Host should indeed fly 
from her as unworthy was so great, that she spent Holy 
Saturday in incessant prayer, promising* pilgrimages, 
fasts on hread and water, and every devotion she coidd 
rememher, if only our Lord would deign to remain with 
her on the following* day. Thus the whole nig-ht passed, 
and in the morning* she wen(, \)n]e and trembling to the 
church to receive Holy Communion with her mother. 

Her agitation increased every moment; hut at 
leng*th it was her tiu"n to g*o up to the altar steps. She 
did so, and the priest came to her and pronoimced the 
customary words ; hut she did not seem to hear him : 
he hent down over her to rouse her from her stupor; and 
it was not till he had shaken her by her dress that she 
was sufficiently recovered to receive. Yet this was not 
an emotion of terror, hut an ecstasy of joy; for at that 
moment her fears and scruples had heen removed by 
the sig*ht of the Sacred Host, not flying* from her as she 
had feared, but shining like a g'lorious sun, whose bril- 
liant rays overpowered her by their excessive lustre 

It would be tedious to g*ive in detail any thing* like 
a f^iithful narration of the ecstasies with which ft-om this 
time she was favoured every time she communicated, 
They were so wonderfril and «;o numerous, that we are 
assured she made a vow bv which she oblio*ed hersell 
never to move from the spot where she knelt ; and that 
she did this in order to control the impulse whicb 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 179 

urged her to cast hei'self at the feet of her Lord, whom 
she saw in so g-lorioiis a shape whenever the Sacred 
Host was elevated before her eyes. 

Time went on, and Dommica was no longer a child, 
With womanliood came the cares and charg-e of the en- 
tire family ; for her motlier, seeing her grave, diligent, 
and })rudpnt, left every thing in her hands, and troubled 
herself witli none of the honsehold duties. With unmur- 
muring obedience Dominica accepted every thing that 
was laid on her ; she swept and washed the house, 
cooked the food, waslied the clothes, looked after tlie 
ofarden and tlie horses, and saw to everv tliinir which 
was sent to the market. Long before break of day she 
had to be up to load tlie mules, and give them in cha^ ge 
to her brother Leonard. When they came home late in 
ilie evening, it was she, tired vrith her innumera])le la- 
bours, who had to take them to the stable and make up 
their stalls. Not a moment of her time but was filled 
uj) with hard bodily work and fatigue ; yet, tlianks to 
the habits of her childhood, she knew how to infiise 
into all these the sj)irit of prayer ; and her incessant 
occupations never put a stop to the devotions and aus- 
terities which she had accustomed herself to practise ; 
nay, she found means to make them assist her in her 
mortification. She contrived two crosses of wood gar- 
nished with sharp nails, which she constantly wore in 
sucli a way, that at every movement of the body, in 
washing, sweeping, and working in the garden, tlie 
nails pressed into the flesh ; and so constantly reminded 
her of the sufterings of her Lord, even when externally 
eni^-aged in tlie commonest employments of her peasant 
life. 

But in spite of the way in which she strove to dr 
all in and for God, she secretly sighed after the retir<3- 
ment of the dcseii; or the cloister, and for space and 
trime to pour out her soul in that lidness of contempla- 
tion and love which swelled like a deep ocean within it. 
Wh}n she was fifteen, she accidentally heard the his- 
tory of St. Mary Magdalen for the fii'st time ; and the 



180 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

account of her retirement and long" penance in the de« 
sei't of Marseilles made an impression on her mind 
which was never effaced. She longed to imitate her, 
and to find some secret place where she might com- 
mence a similar life. Belie vino' this desu'e to be the 
vocation of God, she accordingly determined on the ex- 
periment ; and secretly leaving her mother's house one 
nig-ht, she went on foot to a neighbouring mountain, 
and entered a thick wood, where she hoped to find 
some cavern where she might take up her abode. Her 
first adventure was the meeting* with a wolf 5 but Domi- 
nica knelt down on the earth, not without some secret 
emotions of terror, and recommended herselt to God ; 
after which she rose, and commanded the animal in 
God's name to depart without hurting- her, which ho 
did, and she pursued her way without further alarm. 
At length, near the Valle del Monte, she found such a 
spot as she w^as in search of. There was a grotto sunk 
in the rocky side of the mountain, and near its mouth 
ran a stream of crystal water. It was the very picture 
of a hermitage ; and Dominica's happiness was com- 
plete. She immediately prepared to take up her night's 
lodging" in her g-rotto. But alas ! picturesque and in 
viting* as it seemed, it was very small ; so small, th''"*; 
when the fervent little devotee had crawled into it, and 
knelt down to give vent to her joy and thankfulness, 
she found it impossible to g*et her whole body into its 
shelter; but her feet remained outside, and what was 
worse, dipping' into the cold water of the stream. 
These inconveniences, however, were neither cared for 
nor even noticed by Dominica. She Vv^as alone with 
God, and that was enough for her. Three days and 
nig'hts she spent in her little cavern, absorbed in ecstatic 
contemplation, and without food of any kind ; but on 
the third day a voice spoke to her, and roused her fi'om 
her long' trance of silent happiness. " Dominica," it 
said, " rise and come forth -, I have already forgiven thee 
thy sins." At these words she rose and left her cavern, 
luid behpld a beautiful sight. The Valle del Monte was 



DOMIMCA OF PARADISO. 181 

before her, a& she had seen it the evening of heranival; 
there was not a human habitation to be seen, nothing" 
but the gveen woods which clothed the mountain side, 
and the clear waters of tlie Httle stream, and the rocky 
summits of the hills which rose above the trees. But 
all these objects were now lit up by a wonderful lig'ht, 
brio-liter than that of the sun which fell on them from 
heaven. It grew every moment more and more daz- 
zling, and then she saw in the midst the form of her 
Divine Lord, attended by his Blessed Mother and a 
vast company of angels. He spoke again, " Dominica, 
what seekest thou here, amid these rocks and woods l" 
" I have been seeking Thee, Lord," she replied, " and 
it seems to me that I have found Thee." '^ But," re- 
tmned her Spouse, "when I chose thee for my divine 
espousal, it was not to do thine own will, nor to enjoy 
aught else tlmn My good ])leasm*e, in doing which thou 
shalt alone find peace. I have not called thee to the 
quietude of the desei-t, but that thou sliouldst help me 
to bear My cross in the gTeat city yonder, — the heavy 
cross which sinners make for Me by their sins. Here- 
after shalt tliou see My face in heaven, and contemplate 
Me there for ever ; but for the present moment, return 
to thy mother's house, and wait for the manifestation 
of My will." " I go," said Dominica; '^yet I know not 
what I can do for Thee in the world ; I am nothing but 
a poor peasant girl, who have been brought up among 
beasts and oxen. Moreover, if I go back, my mother 
will certainly beat me, for I have been away three 
days." " Fear nothing," was the answer ; " for an 
angel has taken thy form, and they do not know of 
thine absence." 

Then Dominica found herself transported, she knew 
not how, bock to her own little room in her mother's 
house ; ond whilst she still wondered, she heard her 
brother's voice calling" hastily to her from below to 
come and help unload the mules. Dommica obeyed ; 
but she was not a little confi^sed, when on coming down 
be began to ask her about some money which he hid 



182 DOMINICiV OF PARADISO. 

given liei the evening' before. Slie knew of no money, — 
for, indeed, it had been given not to her, but to the 
ang'el in her likeness -, and she would have been sorely 
pnzzled how to satisfy his demands, if the angel had 
not discovered to her the place where the money was 
placed. And so her absence remained a secret to the 
family ; nor were the cii-cumstances ever revealed, 
until many years after, when, a short time before her 
death, her confessor obliged her under obedience to re- 
veal all the gTaces with which God had favoured her. 

At length, in her twentieth year, Dominica resolved 
to leave the world altogether and enter religion. Her 
wish was not opposed by her mother, and she entered 
as lay-sister in the Augustinian convent at Florence. 
The sisters received her very warmly, for her character 
for holiness and her discretion and industry were well 
known to them ; and they immediately employed her, 
much to their ov/n satisfaction, in the garden and kitchen; 
and kept her so constantly and laboriously occupied, that 
poor Dominica found that she had even less time for 
her exercises of prayer than when at home. She en- 
deavoured to make up for the loss by secretly rising at 
night J but when this was discovered, the Superior, with 
a mistaken charity, would send her to bed again, saying 
that after all her hard day's work she needed rest; not 
perceiving that the real rest she required was time for 
her soul to commune with God. Dominica, therefore, 
became very unhappy ; and one day as she was digging 
in the garden she heard a mournftil voice speak plainly 
and articulately by her side, saying', " Ah, My spouse ! 
why hast thou left Me thus ?" And it seemed to her 
that it was the voice of her Lord, who tenderly expostu- 
lated with her for suffering the intercourse which had 
so closely bound them together to be broken and inter- 
rupted by^so many occupations. She threw the spade 
on the ground, and sitting down, covered her face with her 
hands and wept bitterly. Was it never to end, this life of 
many cares ? It seemed as though her soid, which was 
struggling' to riss into the serene and quiet atmcssphore of 



DOMINICA OF PARABISO. 183 

contemplation, was ever destined to he kept down amid 
cares and labom-s from v/liich she could not escap(!, am] 
which yet seemed, as it were, to separate her from hei 
Lord. So long- as it had been His will, she had never 
resisted nor complained; but now it was not li-is 
will. He had said so; and the sweet sorrowful tone 
pierced her very lieart, as she dwelt on the words, and 
the accent in which they were uttered, — " Ah ! wliy 
nast thou left 3Ie thus T And as she wept and pi-ayed 
and sorrowed, yet saw no way of escape, the same voice 
spoke ag'ain ; but now they were words of comfort and 
encourag-oment : ^^ Be at peace, Dominica ; God will 
follow His own will, and you sliall be comforted." 
Ana, indeed, a short time after slie was attacked by a 
sickness, which compelled the sisters to send her back 
to lier motlier's liouse ; and thoug-li on recovering* she 
returned to them, yet she was ag-ain taken ill, and ag-ain 
forced to leave. A third time her mother took her 
back to the convent; but Dominica knew that it 
was not God's wish that she shoidd receive the Au- 
gaistinian habit : and the nuns themselves seemed to 
feel that this was the case; though, as they well knew 
her worth and sanctity, it cost them many regi-ets be- 
fore they could consent to her finally leaving* their com- 
munity. She returned home, therefore; and now, with 
the advice of her confessor, entere.l on a life of strict 
religious retirement in her mother's house, until the 
designs of God regai-ding her should be more plainly 
manifested. 

The manner of this new life was not a little remark- 
able. Next to the room where her mother slept was a 
little iiibbish-closet, scarcely large enough to stand in : 
this she cleared fi-om its ndjbish, and chose for her cell. 
The constant sickness and infirmities which she suffered 
after her illnesses at the convent prevented her from 
ffoina: out at night and contemplating tlie heavens, as 
had been her custom when a cljild. But she retained 
her old love for them, and contrived to make a little 
beavBii of blue paper on the roof of her closet, and tc 



i8i DOMINICA OF PARABISO. 

cover it with gold stars ; which, thoiig-h but a poor sub- 
stitute for an ItaHan sky — that sea of deep Hqiiid sap- 
p]iire, wherein float the bright stars, looking down like 
the eyes of tlie seraphim, — yet doubtless had its charm 
to tiie simple taste of its designer ; and at any rate it 
reminded her, during* the hours of her prayer, of the 
beautiiLil days of her childhood, when the heavens 
oi)ened to lier wonderinsr eves, and she became familiar 
with its inhabitants^, and thought to get nearer to them 
and to her Lord by chmbing on the roof of the house. 
Then at one end of the closet was a small altar, and on 
it a crib, and a representation of Mary, and the Divine 
€liiid lying on the straw,— much after the fashion of 
those still in common use among the oeasants of 
Italy ; for she always bore a special devotion to the 
mystery of the Infancy. A stool before the altar, a 
wooden bench, and tw^o boxes, completed the furniture 
of her cell. There was no bed : she allowed herself 
but two hours' sleep; and this refreshment, such as it 
was, was taken on the floor, with her head leaning' on 
the stool, — when she lay down in this way, the straight- 
ness of the closet preventing her from taking any posi- 
tion that was not painful or constrained. 

Yet this strange prison, which she never left save 
to go to the neighbouring Church of the Bridgetines to 
hear Mass, was a paradise in Dominica's eyes; for here, 
at least, she was left at peace and with God. She kept 
a continual silence, and divided her time between prayer 
and work with her needle; and so perfect a mistress 
was she in all kinds of embroidery, that she obtained 
large sums of money by her labour. This she left in her 
mothei''s hands, who was thus well satisfied to leave her 
.undisturbed in the possession of her little closet, whilst 
the profits of her daily labours kept the house. The 
au.sterity she practised extended to every kind of bodily 
denial. Her food was bread and water, taken so 
sparingly, that we are assured she sometimes spent a 
week without drinking- at all : when she ate any things 
it was on her knees, as she bomid herself ever ^o ao- 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 185 

company the necessary refreshment of the body witij 
interior meditation on the Passion. After some little 
time, she was moved to give the proceeds of her labom 
no longer to her mother, but to distribute them in alms 
to the poor; and feeling- this inspiration to be the will 
of God, she immediately executed it, g-reatly to her 
mother's dissatisfaction and her own discomfort; for aE 
the indulgence and toleration she had received at her 
hands so long- as the profits of her work were at the 
disposal of the family, were now turned into sharp re- 
proaches. Dominica, however, cared very little for the 
sufferinofs which her resolution brouffht on her; for God 
did not fail to evince His pleasure in many ways. 

She was accustomed to wear the Bridgetine habit, 
with the conseiit of the nuns; not as belonging to their 
community, but because it was deemed advisable that 
she shoidd have the protection and sanction of some 
outward religious habit in her present mode of life. As 
slie returned one morning* from church, a miserable 
beggar met her and asked an alms. She had notliing 
to give him ; yet, rather than send him away witliout 
any relief, slie took the veil fi-om her head, and giving 
it to him, continued lier way. But presently she felt a 
great scruple at what she had done ; the veil was part 
of her religious habit; and she accused herself of a gi-eat 
fault in appearing in the public roads witliout it, so as 
possibly to scandalise the passers by, and be taken for 
one who mocked the holy garb of religion. But as 
these thoughts passed in her mind, tliere met her a 
man, the surpassing beauty and nobleness of whose 
countenance revealed him to be her Lord. He carried 
in his hand the veil she had just given away; and 
throwing it over her head, — '' Henceforth," He said, 
" My spouse, shalt thou have the poverty thou desirest, 
and shalt live for ever on alms, anil as a pilgrim in the 
woi'ld, as I did." From this time she redoubled hei 
labours in order to obtain large means for the piu'pose 
of charity, and besides this, spent much of her tiine in 
nursing and tending the sick, as well as relieving* then 



186 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

by lier alms ; and wlienever she did this, her own sick* 
nesses and pains were for a time suspended, and she 
found herself endowed with streno*th sufficient for the 
most extraordinary fatigaies and exertions. 

It was during her residence at home, in her twenty- 
fourth year, that she received the sacred stigmata. 
Tliese were not hloody, as in so many cases ; but the 
exact form of the nails appeared in the flesh of the 
hands and feet ; the head protruding on the upper part, 
and the point commg out in the palms and soles. The 
crown of thorns was not visible in like manner, though 
the pain of her head in the part w^hicli corresponded to 
its position was excessive ; but very often, in after years, 
her sphitual children in the monastery of her foundation 
saw, as she prayed, how the crown appeared round her 
head in light, and bright rays came out from it and 
formed its points. Dominica strove to conceal the fa- 
vour she had received, by wearing long sleeves to hide 
her hands; but the nails were so large and distinct, 
that it was impossible to prevent the fact from being* 
known and observed by many. After a while, in ajiswer 
to her earnest prayer, this extraordinary formation of 
the nails in the flesh disappeared, and the scars of the 
wounds alone remained, causing- her excessive agony, 
which redoubled every Friday and during Passion-tide. 
At length, in her forty-fourth year, the wounds became 
invisible ; but the pain of them continued dming her 
whole life. 

She remained at home for thi-ee years after the re- 
ception of the sacred stigmata. They were years of 
continual suffering and persecution. The violence and 
coarse selflshness of her mother's nature was vented 
on her in every way and on all occasions. She was 
made the object of the most bitter reviling', and had 
to listen to a torrent of abuse, and what was worse, 
of blasphemous cursing, whenever she appeared in her 
presence. Once her mother threw her so violently 
ag*auist the wall as to cause her to rupture a blood- 
vessel j yet she bore all meekly and imcomplaiiiing' 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 187 

until at lentil some fi-iends who lived at Florence, hav- 
ing* asked her to take up her abode with them, it was 
revealed to her that she should remove thither, which 
she according-ly did. The chang-e of residence, however, 
brong'ht her little or no relief from per.'fecution ; for 
after a few months, the women with whom slie was stay- 
ing*, moved by some jealousy, or disgiisted at the retired 
manner in which she lived, and refused to g"0 about 
with them or join in their way of life, accused her of 
every crime they coidd imag-ine, and even attempted to 
poison her. Her mother, hearing* of the suffering's to 
whicli she was exposed, was moved with a very natural 
t'ontrition for her own cruelty to her, and set out for 
Florence to see her, and if possible remove her from the 
house. 

Unable to obtain admission, she had recourse to one 
of the canons of the city, and im})]ored liim to take her 
daug'hter under his protection, and defend lier ag'ainst 
tlie cruel restraint and persecution to whicli slie was ex- 
posed in her present residence. By his interference she 
was allowed to leave ; and a charitable g'v^ntleman of 
Florence, named Giovanni, to whom the circumstances 
of the case were known, received her into his own home, 
wnere she lived very jieaceably for some time. In all 
rliese most painftd and disturbing- chang'es in her life, 
Dominica's trnnquilhty and resignation remained un- 
moved. She knew that the will of God had its own 
desig-ns reg*arding- lier, and that these were not yet ma- 
nifested ; but until they were, she was content with 
whatever was assig-ned her, and received ill treatment, 
abandonment, and the desolate destiny of passing* li-om 
one strang-e liome to another, with an astonishing- calm- 
ness and indifference. Her position in Giovanni's house 
was a veiv sinuiilar one. His wife was a weak and in- 
dolent woman, and with little rehsz-ious character about 
her; she was tlie fn*st of the family, liowever, over 
whom Dominica's intluence was felt. In a sliort time 
ber habits of vanity and self-indulgence were laid aside; 
and she began to pmy nig'ht and morning-, and to attend 



188 DOMINICA or PARADISO. 

Mass, wliicli till then slie liacl nea-lected. Then one 
of the sous, who was to all outward seeming* given up to 
the though-tless dissipation of his ag'e^ and had always 
negiected liis religious duties, was won over hy her, and 
besTin a neAv life. Giovanni him:?elf soon saw what sort of 
a person he had hroug'ht into liis house, and that he was 
in fact entertaining' an ang-el unawares. He therefore 
insisted on her taking the entire government of the 
family ; and Dominica consented, with the characteristic 
simplicity which would have made her undertake the 
g'overnment of a kingdom, if her guardian- angel had 
assured her it was the wish of God. Whilst she rided 
Hnd directed them, hov."ever, in things sphitual, she her- 
self did the servile work of the house, and waited on 
them in the humblest and most submissive manner. 
She never aiFected any other position than that of a 
simple peasant girl ; but every one who came within 
her influence felt its power over them, and owned he?' 
as their mistress and mother. 

It was whilst living in this way that God revealed 
to her that she was no longer to remain concealed and 
retired from the world ; but tliat He was about to make 
her the spuituai mother of many daughters, and to do 
great things for His own glory through her means. 
Now Dominica was naturally of a very timid and bashfrd 
disposition; and when she heard of being brought before 
the eyes of the world, and called on to teach and guide 
others, she knew not what to think. Her diffidence, 
and what we should call shyness, was naturally so great, 
that she would turn pale if she had to speak to any one 
she did not know familiarly, and always at such times 
suffered from violent beatings of the heart. Therefore, 
when she considered the great things laid before her, 
she felt sad and a little frightened, and spoke to God 
with her usual simple frankness, saying, " my Lord, 
liow^ can this be ? I am nothing but a vile peasant ; the 
heart in my breast is a poor contemptible thing, that 
bas no corn-age in it; my blood is peasant's blood; 
1 am not fit for these great tilings unless you change 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 189 

it." Then God answered, saying-, " And I will cliang-a 
it, and will give you a noble and magTianimous heart ; 
wherefore prepare for keen and terrible sufferings ; for it 
is by them that your heart and blood is to be pui'g'ed and 
renovated, and fitted for My service in the eyes of men." 
Scarcely had the vision ended, v/lien Dominica felt 
the apj)roach of the suffering's which had been promised; 
pain in every part of her body, a continual hemorrhage 
of blood, which seemed to drain every vein, and deadly 
fuinting's and weakness, reduced her almost to extremity. 
Then, after she had lang-uislied in this state for many 
weeks, a vision appealed to her of the same mysterious 
and sigTiificant kind as that related in the life of St. 
Catherine of Sienna. Our Lord took her heart fi-om 
her breast, and supplied its })lace with one of biu-ning fire. 
She rose from her sick-bed, and felt her whole natiu'e 
renewed ; every sense was quickened, and the powers 
of her mind enlar^-ed and ennobled; — nay, her very 
body seemed already to share in the g'lory of the resur- 
rection. It o-ave out a wonderful odom-, which commu- 
nicated itself to every thing which it touched. Her 
sight was so miraculously keen that she could see to em- 
broider in the darkest night, and many jwjv senses 
seemed given her; wliilst those of smell and touch and 
hearing were also renewed in an ecpially extraordinary 
degree. But, at the same time, she lost the bodily vigour 
which had before enabled her to g-o throuo-h so manv hard 
days' labour ; and with her new heart she seemed also 
to have acquired a new and delicate bodily tempera- 
ment which utterly incapacitated her for work, whilst 
she seemed to be wholly immersed in divine and interior 
contemplation. A strange eloquence was now heard to 
flow from her lips, the infused wisdom and science of 
the saints was in her words ; nay, she would often 
quote and explain sentences of the holy Fathers, or of 
the Scriptures, which it is certain she had never read or 
heard read. In short, God had bestowed on her the 
gift which He deemed necessary to fit her for the de- 
sign He had regarding her; and still, with aU the 



xOO DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

marvellous spiritual riclies wliicli she had rx quired, she 
retained in her ways and thong-hts and hal)its the old 
simplicity of the peasant child. 

The first of the spiritual daug'hters g^iven her by 
God was Giovanni's eldest child, who at her persuasion 
embraced the life of i-olig-ion, and placed herself under 
iier obedience. The second soon followed her exaiiiple; 
and soon after a third. Another daughter, Catherine, 
still remained; like her mother, she was of a thought- 
less and indolent character, much given to the vanities 
of her age, and the foolish pleasures of the world about 
her. She was accustomed to ridicule and mock at the 
conversion of her three sisters, and to hinder and disturb 
them in their religious practices; in short, she was 
about as hopeless a subject for Dominica to exercise her 
influence upon as mig-ht well be imagined. But one 
Christmas-day Dominica called her into her little ora- 
tory, and first tm'ning- to the crucifix, and spending a 
moment in silent prayer, she laid her hand on her breast, 
and said, " hard and evil heart, be softened and 
yield to thy God ; and bend to my will, which is, thai, 
thou be the heart of a saint !" Three days after this 
Catherine presented herself with her sisters, and implored 
Dominica to take her also under her teaching" and direc- 
tion. It cost her a little more trouble to convert the 
brothers ; but by degrees she succeeded in persuading 
all to devote themselves to a holy and religious life ; and 
the eldest, taking the habit of St. Dominic, lived and 
died in the order with the reputation of sanctity. 

Her confessor about-this time counselled her herself 
fco take the habit of the third order ; and the matter 
having been agreed upon, he provided a tunic and 
mantle of the usual kind for her clothing, and appointed 
a certain day for her to come to the Convent of St. 
Mark and receive it with the customary ceremonies. 
The circumstances which followed have a very marvel- 
lous character, yet there seems no reason to doubt the 
accuracy and reality of what is narrated. We are told 
thatj on the morning of the day appointed, she being in 



DOMINICA OF PAR-ADISO. 19l 

prayer, was rapt in ecstasy ; and in this state she saw 
St. Catherine and St. Dominic enter her room with 
the white tunic in their hands. St. Dominic himself 
j^ave it to her, pronomiciug- the words and prayer ac- 
cording- to tlie rite of his order, — the responses being- 
given by St. Catherine and the angels; and her giiardian- 
angel gave the aspersion of holy water, first to the habit, 
and then to her ; and St. Catherine received her as her 
daughter, and gave her the kiss of welcome. When 
she recovered from her ecstasy, she found herself really 
clothed in the sacred habit which hud been thus v/onder- 
fully given her; and, full of joy, she appeared with it in 
public in the afternoon of the same day. This was a cause 
of UTeat dis leasure to the authorities of the order, who 
comphi-ned that she had assumed tlieir habit without 
being regularly admitted into their society. The affair 
was l)rought before the Master-General, at tlnit time V^io 
di Ciijetan; and the complaint ai)j)earing just, he called 
on her either to lay it aside, or to ex|)lain the authority 
by which she wore it. The account she gave of the 
whole matter so satisfied the Archbishop of Florence of 
her sincerity and holiness, that he undertook to mediate 
in her behalf; and it was at length agreed that she 
should keep the habit, provided that she and her com- 
panions wore a red cross on the left shoulder, to denote 
that she had been clothed without the sanction of the 
ordinary authorities of the order, and was not subject 
to its jurisdiction ; and, in fact, they did so wear it fo^* 
six years, when, the Convent of the Holy Ci'oss being- 
established, they were afterwards fully admitted to the 
rig-hts and jw-ivileges of the order. 

After this point was settled, Dominica's next step 
was to retire with her little band of followers (which 
now included sevei-al others besides the daug-hters of 
Giovanni) to a small house, where they lived a regu- 
.ur life, suppoi-ting themselves by the labour of tlieii 
hands. In time their g-ains increased to so wonderful a 
degree, that they found themselves enabled to purchase 
a moie convenient residence, and then to enlarg-e it^ 



192 DOMINICA OF PAKADISO. 

and finally to rebuild it in tlie form of a cross. la 
short, in the course of a few years she saw herseli 
at the head of a larg-e community, possessed of a re^- 
lar and extensive house, with a church attached to it, 
without any other means having' been employed in its 
erection than the money which she and her sisters had 
earned by their own needlework. The Archbishop of Flo- 
rence (the celebrated Julius de Medici, afterwards Pope) 
was so struck with the manifest expression of God's 
will in the whole matter, that he obtained permission 
from Leo X. for the regular foundation of the con- 
vent under the ride of St. Dominic. They were all 
solemnly clothed on the 18th of November, 1515, and 
proceeded to the election of theu' prioress. Their choice 
of course fell on Dominica, but she absolutely refused 
to accept the office; and used a power given her by 
the papal brief to nominate another sister in her place, 
whilst she determined to retain for herself the x'ank and 
duties of a lay-sister. 

The ceremony of the clothing- and election bemg 
therefore over, she made a solemn renunciation of the 
house and all it contained into the hands of the Arch- 
oishop- Vicar. Then she left the sisters, and went to 
the kitchen ; and coming- thei'e, she sent all the other 
lay-sisters away, saying-^ it belonged to her to do what 
had to be done for the community for the first week of 
their settlement. She cooked the dinner, and sejit it 
to the refectory ; and whilst the sisters were sitting- at 
table, she entered the room with a number of broken 
pieces of earthenware tied round her neck, and knelt 
humbly in the middle of them all, as one domg* penance. 
The feelings of her children at this sight may be ima- 
gined ; there was a universal stir ; three or four rose 
from table, and would have placed themselves by her 
fide. The prioress endeavoured to restore order ; but 
the meal was broken by the sobs and sighs of the 
wliole community. When dinner was over, she tried 
to retiu'n to her work in the kitchen; but the feel ngs 
of tho sisters could no long^er be restrained ; th(iy ran 



DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 193 

after her, and threw themselves at her feet. " Mother, 
mother," they cried, " it is a mutlier we want, not a 
saint ; a g-iiide, and not a servant,— this cannot be suf- 
fered." But Dominica tried to quell them, and to per- 
suade them to let it be even as she desii'ed; her entreaties, 
however, were in vain. They left her, and with the Pri- 
oress met tog-ether to consider what should be done j and 
it was determined that the Vicar should be called on to 
use his authority with Dominica, and bring- her under 
obedience to take the office of Superior,— which, in short, 
she was compelled to do, with the title of Vi caress ; 
for she persevered in refiising- to be instituted Prioress. 
When the time came for the profession of the new 
community, Dominica obtained permission from the 
Pope to defer her own profession ; only to bind herself 
by a simple vow to wear the habit of the third order, 
and keep the rule of St. Dominic. Does the reader 
wish to know the motive she had for soliciting- this sin- 
gular privileg-e ? He must g'o back some twenty vears, 
<ind vcou\ tlie time wlipn tlip storv of St, "^larv Ma^*-- 
urticL s rein-ement to the deserts of Marseilles had sent 
the little peusant child into tlie woods, to spend three 
happy dayi and nights in a hermit's cave too small to 
contain her, but which she considered as a Paradise; 
and where she would have ])een well content to ha\e 
remained all her life, if such had been the wish of God. 
At thirty years of ag-e, Dominica was still the same. 
Her simplicity had a touch of what one mig-lit call 
romance about it, and she had never forootten lier 
tfTeat project of a liermitage. Slie would not be bound 
to the Convent of the Holy Cross therefore, because 
she still hoped the time mig-lit come when sJie mig-ht 
find out the desert of ^larseilles, and realise the life of 
penance and retirement, the account of which had made 
so deep an impression on iier imagination. When she 
saw iiersplf threatened with a perpetual aj)pointment as 
V'icnress, slie accordingly resolved to fly at once, and 
did actually escape by one of the windows, and set out 
towards Marswlles in the liabit of a pilgiim. The com- 



194 DOMINICA OF PARADISO. 

mimity again had recourse to the Vicar^ who sent a 
peremptory order for her return under pain of excom- 
munication; and the messenger who carried it found 
her laid up in a Httle village with a swelling of hoth 
feet, which had put a speedy stop to her pilgrimage, 
and which she herself acknowledged to he the declara- 
tion that it was not God's will she should proceed in 
lier design. She was therefore compelled to return 
and reassume the government of her convent, in which 
office she continued until she died in 1553. 

With the circumstances which attended her death 
wo must conclude. For months she had lain on a 
miserable pallet, unable to move or rise, and with the 
appearance of a living slieleton. But when Easter Day 
came, she felt it was the last she shoidd spend with 
her Sisters, and determined to keep the festival with 
them all in community. She therefore caused herself 
to be carried to the chair, where she communicated 
with them. She took her dinner in the refectory, and 
aftei'wards held a chapter, where, after briefly and 
touching-ly exhorting them to fidelity to their Spouse, 
she ga^e them her last blessing. Then, in order to 
assure them in the peaceable possession of their convent, 
she determined to make her solemn profession, which 
had never yet been done, — in conformity, we are assmT.d, 
to the express revealed permission of God. She lingered 
on until the following' August, and on the 5 th of that 
month fell into her agony. When the last moment 
came, she raised herself on the pallet, and extended 
her arms in the form of the cross. Her face shone 
with a bright and ruddy colour, and her eyes were 
dazzling with a supernatural light ; and so, without any 
other death-struggle than a gentle sigh, she expired, 
at the age of eighty years. Her life has been written 
at leng-th by F. Ignatius Nente ; but the principal 
facts were drawn up by the Abbess of Florence very 
shortlv after her decease, at the instance of the Grand 
Duchess of Lorraine, and forwarded to Rome, to form 
the process for her beatification. 



ANNE DE MOM MORENCr. 



ANNfi DE MONTMORENCY, 

THE SOLITARY OF THE PYRENEES. 



About the year 1G66, a young' lady of the family of 
Montmorency, one of the most ancient and illustiious 
m France, disappeared at the ag-e of fifteen from her 
father's liouse, because projects were being* formed for 
her estabHshment, and she believed herself called to 
a different state of li^^'e. After having* in vain endea- 
voured to alter the views of her family respecting* her, 
she entreated permission one day to make a pilgrimage 
to Mount Vah^rian, near Pun's, where were the stations 
of our Lord's Pa>;sion, When slie reached that which 
represents our Lord on the cross, she implored Him 
whom she had chosen for her spouse, with many tears, 
to save her from the danger of being ever unfaithful to 
Him, and to teach lier how to live from thenceforth as 
His own bride, unknown, and crucified with Him, with 
her body and 'ooul given up entirely to His charge, and 
her whole being abandoned to the care of Providence. 

With her mind full of these holy thoughts, she 
came down from the mountiiin, and without well know- 
ing what she vvns going to do, she turned her steps to- 
wards the Bois de Boulogne ; and wlien she reached the 
Abbey of Longchamp, feeling a strong impulse to enter 
the church, slie dismissed for some hours the confiden- 
tial attendants by whom she was accompanied, saying 
that she had still many prayers to recite ; and accord- 
ir.gly they left lier without suspicion to finish her devo- 
tions. No sooner were they out of sight than she left 



^98 ANNE DE MONTMORENCY, 

the clmi c"h ; and committing lierself to our Bless-fjd 
Lord and His holy Mother, plung-ed into the recesses 
of the wood. She was following- by mere chance an 
unfreqnented path, when she met a poor woman, wno 
asked alms of her. This encounter appeared to her an 
indication of the will of Heaven : she formed her plan 
in an instant, and began to put it into execution, by 
taking" the clothes of the poor beggar, and giving her 
own in exchange; and to complete the disguise, she 
stained her hands and face with clay, and tried to dis- 
figure herself as much as possible. She then turned in 
the direction contrary to that in which she tliought pur- 
suit would first be made ; walked all the rest of tJae 
day, and found herself in the evening in a village situate 
on the Seine, some leagues from Paris. There she was 
met by some charitable ecclesiastics, who, touched by 
her youth, and the dangers to which it exposed her, 
took an interest in her situation, and found her first a 
temporary asylum, and afterwards a situation with a 
lady in the neighbourhood, who v/as very rich, and 
whose service was safe and respectable, as she was de- 
vout and regular in her conduct ; but she was a diffi- 
cult person to live with, being of a sharp and worrying 
temper, so that she had never been able to keep long 
either a man or maid-servant. Into this house, how- 
ever, Jane Margaret, by which name only she was 
known, entered as lady's-maid; but as no servant but 
herself could remain, she found herself at the e^ge of 
sixteen obliged to be cook and housemaid and porteress 
all at once. Wha' consoled and even rejoiced her in 
this situation was the opportunity it afforded her of 
satisiying her thirst for crosses and humiliations, and 
also her freedom from all intrusion of idle curiosity, 
so that she felt her secret safe. She endured all the 
fatigues of so laborious a situation, and all the caprices 
of a harshness in temper, with unalterable patience and 
sweetness until her mistress's death ; that is to say, fo? 
the space of ten years. And so faultless was her con- 
duct during all this time, tJiat her rnistresS;^ on her deatk- 



ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 199 

bed, publicly beg-g-ed her pardon for all slie had made 
her suffer, and insisted on leaving- her the sum of four 
thousand francs in addition to her wages, of whicli shu 
had as vet scarcely received any thins'. Jane Maio-aret 
was with difficult}'- persuaded to accept this present, 
and when it was forced upon her, slie distributed ifc 
amon^ :he poor, with the exception of a ver}^ small sum 
which ^he kept for her immediate wants. Feeling', 
howf ver, that such extraordinar}^ liberality on tlie part 
of a mere maid-servant would excite suspicion and en- 
dang-er her secret, she resolved to escape the peril as sood 
as possible. 

Accordino-ly on her return from the fimeral of her 
mistress, seeing- the boat for Auxerre, she threw liei"self 
into it, without a moment's delay ; and soon after her 
arrival in that town succeeded in finding- another situa- 
tion which slie considered suitable. It was in the house 
of a master joiner, who was g-reatly esteemed both for 
skill in his profession and for g-eneral probity, and who 
was also clever in carving-. 

The earl}' education of Jane Margaret made her 
very useful to her new master, who, in return, taug-ht 
her how to handle the chisel, and she very soon became 
sufficiently expert to make wooden clocks. In this to^^'n, 
too, she was hapi)y enoug-h to find a director experienced 
in the ways of God, wlio confirmed her in the resolution 
she had taken. In about a year's time, however, she 
lost him ; and des})airing' of finding- anotlier to whom 
she could g-ive her entire confidence, she determined to 
return to Paris, in the hope of finding- there a g-uide 
such as she rerpiired, believing* herself sufficiently for- 
g-otten at this distance of time to run no risk of being 
recognised. She set forth, therefore, on the road to 
the capital on foot, and asking alms; for she had taken 
care before leaving Auxerre to give to the poor all that 
she had earned. 

On her arrival in Paris she placed herself among 
tlie poor who ask the charity of the faithful at the 
church- doors ; and begged every morning enough te 



200 ANNE DE MONTMORENCr. 

maintain lier for tlie day, for winch purpose veiy littl«5 
suiHced. All the rest of her time she passed in prayer 
in the churches, which she never left except at the 
approach of night. One day as she was asking* alms, 
according- to her custom, at the door of a church, it 
pleased Providence tliat she should address herself to 
a very pious and charitable lady^, who kept a school at 
ChAteau-Fort, and who was under the direction of a 
holy religious named the Father de Bray. At the first 
sight of the young- and modest beg-gar, the virtuous 
schoolmistress felt moved, and discerning- in her some- 
thing- which did not accord with her apparent state of 
life, ventured to ask her whetl-er it was from sickness 
that she was reduced to that condition. Jane Marg-aret 
only replied that she believed herself to be fulfilling' 
the will of God ; which answer increased the interest 
she had already excited in tlie mind of the pious ladj, 
wIk) told her that in her state of weakness the air of 
the country would do her good, and offered to take her 
to Chateau-Fort. At the same time she spoke to her 
of Father de Bray, whose name and merit were well 
known in Paris. This last consideration w^as sufficient 
to determine Jane Margaret to follow a person whose 
sentiments were so congenial with her own. 

As soon as Father de Bray became acquainted with 
her, he discovered in her one of those wonders which 
are wroug-ht from time to time by g-race for the con- 
fusion of the world, and set himself to second tlie designs 
of Heaven concerning- this privileg-ed soul. She too, on 
her side, convinced that she had at last found a g-uide 
such as she had been lono- seekinir, bestowed on him 
her confidence without reserve, oiid continued to corre- 
spond with him as long- as he lived. 

In process of time; drawn more than ever by the 
Spirit of God, slie left Chateau- Fort to g-o and seek a 
solitude hidden from all men ; but it was almost two 
years before she could find wdiat she desired. She 
traversed several provinces seeking- icy an asylum out 
of the reach of every human eye, unti at last sho ar- 



ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. iWl 

tiyeA at tlie Pyrenees, where slie established herself in 
a wil.i recess, which she names in her letters "the soli- 
tude of the rocks." It was a little space of a pentagonal 
shape, shut in by five rocks, which formed a kind of 
cross, and rendered the little spot of ground which they 
enclosed not quite inaccessible, but altogether invisible 
ti-om without. From the foot of tlie highest of these 
rocks there gushed a spring of excellent wp^,er, and its 
summit was a kind of observatory, from whence she 
could espy any intruders who might venture to ap- 
proach her abode. There were three grottoes at the 
base of the rocks, one of which was a deep and winding 
cavern ; this she made her cell, and the two others Ler 
oratories. This solitude was at least half a league from 
any road, and surrounded by a thick forest, or ratner 
by a brake, so tangled that, to get through it, the tra- 
veller must force his way among thistles and briers, 
t)y a path which seemed impracticable to any but wild 
beasts. Our solitary, however, met with none of these, 
except a bear, who was more afraid than she, and ran 
away. She found in her retreat shrubs which bore a 
fruit much like damsons ; and the rocks were covered 
with medlar- trees, the fruit of which was excellent. The 
cold was not intense even in the heart of winter, while 
the heat of summer was tempered by the shade of the 
rocks, and of the woods which surrounded it. Ail these 
details are given in the letters of the solitar}^ herself to 
her director. Father de Bray. 

In this retirement she began to lead a life angelic 
rather than human ; looking upon this earth as the 
blessed do from the heights of heaven, and consecrating 
every pulsation of her heart to God. For some time 
she used to go twice a week to the village to ask alms : 
but by degrees she weaned herself from the use of 
bread, and at last lived entirely on the vegetables and 
wild fruits which grew in the neighbom-liood of her 
abode. 

Her spiritual necessities were mr re difficu t to sup- 
ply. Not wishing to risk being recognised, she waa 



202 ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 

obliged fco use many precautions whenever she allowed 
herself the consolation of participating- in the divine 
mysteries ; but Providence had prepared for her a re- 
source. At a little distance from the forest were two 
religious houses, one of men, tlie other of women. 
There she went to hear Mass and receive holy com- 
munion ; and, in order to escape remark, she went some- 
times to the church of the convent, sometimes to that 
of the monastery ; and for her confessor she selected a 
good curate of the neighbourhood, who simply heard 
what she had to say, and asked her no questions. She 
liad fixed for herself a rule of life, which she followed 
exactly : at five in the morning- she rose, winter and 
summer; continued in prayer till six, when she re- 
cited prime, and either went to Mass or heard it in 
spirit ; and then read some chapters of Holy Scriptm-e. 
These exercises lasted till eight; after which she de- 
voted two hours to manual labour, either mending her 
clothes, or practising sculpture, or cultivating a little 
garden which she had made round her habitation. At 
ten she recited tierce, sext, and none ; and then, pros- 
trate at the foot of her crucifix, she examined her con- 
science, and imposed on herself penances in proportion 
to the number and grievousness of her faults. All this 
lasted till about noon, when she took the only meal of 
^Aie day, and after it her recreation, which consisted, in 
fine weather, of a walk to the summit of the rocks, 
where she contemplated the g-reatness of God in His 
works, and praised and blessed His infinite perfections 
in pious songs which she knew by heart, or with which 
Divine love inspired her at the moment. 

On her retiu-n home she made her spiritual reading, 
usually from the Imitation, followed by an affectionate 
prayer, in which she poured out before God ail the ne- 
cessities of her soul ; but asked of Him nothing but the 
accomplishment of His own good pleasure. Then she 
resumed her manual labour until four in the afternoon, 
uftei' which she recited Vespers and the enti.-e Rosary, 
accompanied, or followed 1 y pious considerati ms. ThM 



ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 203 

exercise Drought her on to eight o'clock, when she wont 
thi-:mgh the devotion of the Stations in a Calvury which 
she ht-.tl huilt herself^ and performed the penances and 
mortification which she had imposed upon herself. At 
nine she latired to her cell, and, after a sliort exaini- 
nation of conscience, and some vocal prayers, slept till 
eleven, when she rose to recite matins, which she knew 
by heait. and to pray till two, when she retired again 
to rest tdl five. In order to regulate this distrihution of 
her time, she had made herself a wooden clock. She 
made also several other pieces of workmanship, which 
were admired by connoisseurs, more especially a Cru- 
cifix, made out of a single piece of corneil wood, which 
she presented to Father' de Bray, and wliicli aftei-wards 
fell into the hands of Madame de Maintenon, who 
valued it as a precious relic. Sh5 wrought also three 
other crucifixes, one very small, whicli she wore round 
her neck; another, three feet higli, wliich she placed in 
her cell; and a third, six feet high, which she carved 
out of tlie wood of a fir-tree, which had been struck 
do\\'n by liglitning in the forest, and which she placed 
in the Calvary she had arranged on tlie summit of one 
of thf highest of the rocks which enclosed her habi- 
tation. 

For her communications wL^h Father de Bray she 
made use of a wagoner, who, from time to time, 'jour- 
neyed to and from Paris, and who faithfidly carried her 
letters, and brouglit back to her the answers to them, 
togetljer with the small sums of money which hei 
director sent her from time to time, and which she used 
to ])rocure such things as were indispensablv necessary 
to lier, sucli as tools for her carving, nei^dles, threadf, 
woisted, and some pieces of calico and stuff to repair 
her garments, which were very simple, but always neat, 
especially when sh.e appeared at chm-ch. 

It may not be uninteresting to see an inventory of 
aer few possessions, which she sent to her spiritual di- 
rector. A Roman Breviary, which she recited daily, 
and which she imderstood, hav.-ng; learat Latin in her 



204t ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 

ehildliood ; an Imitation; an abridgment of the Saints' 
Lives ; a little book called Horlog-e du Coeur, and ano- 
ther of Devotions to the Blessed Sacrament. Such was 
her library. Her workshop contained a supply of ordinary 
carpenters' tools, and a few more delicate implements for 
sarving- ; while for her personal use she had a few liun- 
di^eds of pins, some needles, some g'rey and white tliread, 
a pair of scissors, and a copper thimble ; two bo^vls and 
a cup, all in wood; a hair shirt, and a discipline. Her 
wardrobe, as may be supposed, was of the most simple 
description, but sufficient for decency and neatness. 

Our solitary had but one fear in this lieaeeful i-etire- 
ment, that of being- discovered ; and it was long' before 
her evident sanctity drew the attention of the people of 
the villag'e, and excited the ciniosity of so many people, 
bhat, in spite of all her precautions, they succeeded, by 
dint of constant watching-, in finding out, if not abso- 
lutely her abode, at least the rocks which surrounded 
it. This was quite enough to force her to seek a more 
distant solitude. 

Impelled, as she said in one of her letters, by an 
irresistible force, she transported herself to a. distance 
of twenty leao-ues, still further amono; the Pyrenees, in 
the direction of Spain. She had dwelt for four year» 
in the solitude of the rocks, and for three yeaj-^ more 
she abode in that which she called the Grot of the 
Rivulets. It was a place full of rocks and cave^T.s, the 
retreat of wild beasts, enormous serpents, and monstrous 
lizards, which were the terror of the neighbour] 'ood, so 
that none dared approach the spot. But wb^n this 
barrier of rocks was once passed, which requir'^d good 
climbing, there was a little smiling valley en-imclled 
with flowers, and intersected with rivulets fi-oni several 
springs ofliving water gushing out from the mountains; 
there, too, were several sorts of fi-uit of very good taste, 
and a quantity of wild honey, which the solitary pro- 
nounced to be excellent ; so that altogether this abode 
would have been preferable to her former one of ths 
roots, if it had not ueen. for the presence of the wild 



ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 205 

beasts, But of tliese Jane i^Inrg-ai-et liad no fear, de- 
pendir.g' on the help of the Lord^ who has promised to 
give His servants the power of treading- on serjients and 
scorpions, and of chaining- the mouths of lion- ; and in 
truth these animals never disturhed her, thuug-h she 
passed their dens ag-ain and ag-ain ; it seemed as though 
they res[>ecti'd her and all that belong-ed to hei, for they 
never a})proached her dwelling-, and even spared a little 
squirrel which she had found in this wilderness, and 
taken home with her for company. 

Here, too, as in the neighbourhood of her first soli- 
tude, she found a convent of monks ; but this was at a 
more considerable distance, for she had three leagues 
and a half to walk before she could reach it, and that 
throuii'h taniiled thickets ; but in this convent she souj>'ht 
a confessor; the Su[)erior received her with great kind- 
ness, believing- her to be a poor country g-irl, and askinjj^ 
her no questions but such as were suitable to the rural 
life he sui)})osed her to be leading-. For the holy sacri- 
fice she went to tlie hermitaue of St. Antonv, a leagTie 
Hftd a half on the other side of tlie forest. 

When once fixed in this new abode, our solitary 
peaceably resumed tlie course of her accustomed ex- 
ercises. She arrang-ed for herself two cells in the hollow 
of two rocks very near to each other, and in the space 
between the two she formed a little chapel, which she 
delig'hted in adorning- with verdure and wild iluwers. 
She divided her time, as beiore, bctwc-n labour and 
prayer, and her trances and ecstasies became more 
frequent and more sublime chtin ever: but her g'reat 
humilitv made her distrust these extraordinarv I'avour? 
of Heaven, and she required to be set at rest concerning 
them by her director, with whom slie continued to corre- 
spon'l, and to whom she continued, even to tlie end, to 
poui foi-th all the secrets of lier s(ml with the simplicity 
of a Ciiild. Her last letter is dated the 17t]i of Sept. 
1099. and in it she expresses a great desii-e to g"o to 
Rome m thi coui-se of the following- year, in order t« 
gaio the ind xlgence of the jubilee, but at the same 'im» 



^6 ANNE DE MONTMORENCY. 

suomits lier own judg'ment entirely to tliatofhim wLoos 
she reg'arded as the interpreter of the will of He«^''*^ri in 
ner regard. Receiving no answer, slie suspected tiiat 
father de Bray was no more ; and in fact he had died 
cnat very year. She tlioug'ht herself free to move, and 
set off for the Holy City, since which period it ht?s heen 
impossible to gather any trace of her. Whether slie 
accomphshed her pilgrimage, whether she died in Rome 
or in some solitude, lias never been discovered • as though 
it pleased Providence to second, even after her death, 
the earnest desire of His servant to be hidden from the 
sight and knowledge of men ; for the tomb, which often 
becomes the glory of the friends of God, only set the 
seal to her obscurity. At the last day, wdien the secret* 
of ail heai'ts shall be made known, this treasure wi^ 
ipsiid revealed in the face of the mjiveris. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2006 

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